#implied pstd

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for bOO-oops behind the cut; “Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids”. tw: aftermath of a panic attack, implied PTSD, unhealthy coping mechanisms. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

If it hadn’t been for Ma and Pa, she would’ve just stayed up above ground with Kal, both of them hurting and terrified and screaming. If it hadn’t been for Ma and Pa, she wouldn’t have been able to get him away from all the roaring and crashing or protect him from the noise or soothe him through the fear. She wouldn’t even have known how to get him away from it. Wouldn’t have been able to do anything for him at all. 

Worse that that, because all she actually did by being there was make it worse. Ma and Pa could’ve carried just Kal down here much faster if they hadn’t had to drag her along while she was screaming and panicking and carrying on like a disgrace. It would’ve been easier, if she hadn’t been there. She couldn’t help him at all. She couldn’t protect him at all. 

She was a burden to him. 

That’s not why their family saved her. 

“Suh ay-fuh,” Ma repeats softly, and “Suh ay-fuh,” Pa agrees. Kara still doesn’t know what the word means–what the words mean?–and still isn’t sure she’s even reading Ma and Pa’s tones right, flat as they are, and is still just so bitterly ashamed of herself. Kal fusses in her lap, and she wipes helplessly at his face with the cloth square again. He keens unhappily and tries to squirm away from her grip, and she feels a rush of panic and terror and–and– 

She’s such a disappointment. Such an embarrassment to their house; their family. Such a . . . such a useless . . . 

She chokes back another sob, hating herself for even having to, and wraps herself tighter around Kal. He just–it’s not–it’s not safe, if he just– 

“Karr-full, Ka-Lair,” Ma says, laying her hands gently over the back of Kara’s. Kara doesn’t understand how Ma and Pa can be this kind, when she’s such an embarrassment and a mess and . . . and isn’t . . . “Ka-Lum jess wan-suh tah gitt dow-nah, dar-leen, thas ull.” 

Kara doesn’t know what Ma’s saying. Something, obviously but . . . but not something she knows. Not anything she recognizes; not even anything she can even hear right, it feels like. Kal is keening unhappily in her arms again and still trying to wriggle away from her and she doesn’t–she doesn’t–doesn’t he know it’s not safe? Doesn’t he know how small he is, how easy to snuff out, how tiny and helpless and small and–and– 

He doesn’t, she thinks vaguely. He doesn’t remember Krypton burning and collapsing and imploding; doesn’t remember his parents sealing him away inside his pod. Even if he does, Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor had probably just laid him in it the same way they would’ve laid him in his cradle. Just like he was going to sleep for a little while, and no different from any other time they’d put him to bed. 

Mother and Father, though . . . 

Kara had–she’d panicked. She’d been terrified, and she’d been trying to convince them she couldn’t go alone, that they had to come with her, that they couldn’t just send her alone, and–and she’d refused to get in her pod, and–and she’d–she’d refused to get in, so the last time she’d ever gotten to touch her mother had been her mother grabbing her by the arms and throwing her in, and her father slamming the door behind, and her own voice screaming and screaming and her fists beating against the door, and the whole world ending all around them. 

She’d thought–she’d thought there was something else they could’ve done. Thought there was something else they could’ve done. 

But she’d been wrong. Stupid and deluded and shameful and wrong. 

So the last time she’d ever seen her parents she’d been screaming at them, fighting with them, and the last time she’d ever touched her mother had been her mother having to shove and throw and force her away, force her to not be stupid enough to die. She hadn’t gotten to hold her or Father one last time. Hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to them. To say anything to them. 

She hadn’t even let them say goodbye to her. 

The last thing she ever, ever could’ve done for them before they’d both burned up and died, before the whole world had ended, before everything any of them had ever known had ended, and she hadn’t even been able to do that. Couldn’t even let her own parents hold her one last time, and tell her goodbye. Let them be proud of how their daughter had acted; how she’d understood what they were doing and why, and had accepted her duty with dignity, and gone calm and steady, and how she wouldn’t wake up thousands upon thousands of lightyears later still sobbing and screaming for them. 

What kind of daughter is she, that she couldn’t even give them that? 

. . . what kind of daughter was she. 

Her parents are dead. She’s not a daughter anymore. 

Kara Zor-El is no one’s daughter, and Kal-El doesn’t understand that it’s not safe anymore. Wasn’t ever safe. “Safe” was a lie, always. But he still doesn’t understand how easily the ceiling could cave in, how easily the world could crack apart, how easily the sun could burn out. He doesn’t understand. 

He doesn’t understand, and all she has left is whatever she can do to keep him safe. 

That’s the only thing she can do for any of them, now. Anyone from their house, anyone from their line, their family, their world– 

Kal’s first word wasn’t even Kryptonian, and he’s never cried for Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor like she thought he would, and he doesn’t understand. 

And he’s the only thing she has left. 

“Ka-Lair,” Ma repeats even softer, and Kara can’t shame their house again. Can’t fail Kal again. Can’t fail her parents again. 

Can’t stop herself from bursting into tears again. 

“O, bay-bee gurr,” Pa says roughly, and he and Ma both wrap her up in their arms again like she even deserved it the first time, and she can’t do a thing but just sit there holding Kal and sob and sob and sob all over him. She’s such a disgrace. Such an embarrassment. Such a disappointment. 

Such a weak, pathetic failure. 

Rao won’t even come for a shameful thing like her, when it’s time. 

Ma and Pa tug her to her feet with Kal again and guide them both over to the far side of the room past the shelves and unwrap the rolled-up blankets on the shelves to spread them out over the flat pallet laid on the floor back there. The blankets are odd ones, soft and padded and thick with, for some reason, rows of metal-toothed fasteners all the way down two of their edges. Kara only knows they’re fasteners at all because she’s seen them on the aliens’ clothes before, but doesn’t know why blankets would need fasteners like those. 

She can’t think of a reason, but she also can’t stop crying and can’t protect Kal and can’t do right by their house and can’t make up for not hugging her mother one last time, so why would she be able to do anything at all? 

Ma and Pa coax her and Kal down into the blankets and fold them around them, and . . . oh, Kara realizes as Pa pulls the fastener’s tab up to seal it into a large pocket that envelopes her and Kal completely. Kal fusses and tries to squirm out of her arms, reaching for Ma with a flat alien-sounding whine, but he doesn’t know it’s not safe, and Kara can’t let him go. She just–she can’t. It’s not safe, and he doesn’t know. 

Kal whines louder, and then he starts to wail. Ma kneels down beside them and strokes his hair, making her little hissing sounds at him again. He goes back to the flat alien-sounding whines, but tries to crawl out of Kara’s arms again. 

She doesn’t know why he can’t just understand. 

“It’s not safe, Kal!” she sobs into his hair, huddling down small in the blanket pocket and wrapping him up tighter as she curls in around him again, and Kal goes back to wailing and tries to kick his way out of her arms. Ma hisses and hisses and hisses, leaning down over them and stroking his hair again. Pa sits down beside her and reaches over to stroke Kara’s back through the blankets, and she still can’t stop crying, still can’t take care of Kal, still can’t do this right, can’t–can’t– 

“Ma!” Kal wails, reaching towards her again. “Ma! Ma! MA!”

But it’s not safe, and he doesn’t understand. 

Kara sobs harder, and Ma and Pa make their little hissing noises again and again, and Kal wails, and she’s–she’s such a disgrace, an even worse disgrace, a–it’s not another apocalypse, not even anything really dangerous, not the literal end of the world all over again, so why is she crying again and why doesn’t Kal understand?! He needs to understand, he needs to, he won’t be safe if he doesn’t understand, if he doesn’t learn, if–he won’t be safe! 

And he doesn’t even know enough Kryptonian to know that, because she hasn’t taught him enough to know. 

How can she not have taught him that? 

Ma lays down beside them and wraps them both up in her arms, and makes more hissing sounds at them. She talks very soft and quiet, even as Kara just uselessly sobs and can’t even try to understand what she’s saying. But Kal’s cries start to gutter down a little, and then a little more, and then they settle into just hitched sniffles and tiny little whimpers and flat whines. Ma strokes his hair, and Pa strokes Kara’s back again. 

And Kara can’t even make Kal feel better when he’s scared, so what use even is she? What good even is she? 

None. Nothing. Not any kind of good. She’s useless, and no good to Kal at all. 

This pretty little yellow sun shouldn’t even touch her with its light. Never should’ve touched her at all. 

She can still hear the crashing through the heavy doors of the hatch, distant and muted but unmistakable. It won’t stop. 

She tries to tell herself that as long as it doesn’t stop, the world hasn’t ended. If the weather protocols are running, and the sky is roaring like that . . . the world isn’t over, if she can still hear that. 

She couldn’t hear anything after her father had slammed the door shut on her. 

So . . . so as long as it doesn’t stop, Kara tells herself. Tells herself, and cries silent, shameful tears against Kal’s vacuum-black curls and the dull, rough fabric of Ma’s flower-patterned dress where it covers her shoulder. As long as it doesn’t stop. The world isn’t over, if it doesn’t stop. The world is still there, if it doesn’t stop. 

It has to be. It has to be. 

Kal needs it to be, because he needs to be safe. She needs to make sure he’s safe. So the world has to still be there. At least this world, anyway. 

It’s already too late for theirs, after all. It’s–it’s a long time too late for theirs. 

But it’s not too late for Kal.

.

.

.

They all stay down in the liquid-stone room for a long time, and the crashing and rain continues on. One crash is so bellowingly loud that even Ma and Pa jump at the sound of it, but they don’t seem concerned; just a little startled. They don’t seem concerned about anything but Kara and Kal. 

Not like it’s the end of the world. 

Ma and Pa talk to them for most of it. Pa sorts through a few thick paper records that are on the shelf and takes one off, and reads to them from it in his flat, toneless voice. Ma strokes their hair, and . . . 

Kara thinks it’s how the aliens sing, what Ma does. Or at least, it seems as close to singing as she’s heard them do. There isn’t even as much resonance or melody as a Kryptonian’s typical speaking voice to it, but . . . but it is kind of her, to do it. Kara appreciates it, that she tries. 

They’re both so kind, all the time. She doesn’t understand why they’re always so kind, even when she’s doing something as disgraceful and embarrassing and ill-behaved as this. 

She should sing to Kal more, Kara thinks vaguely. If she were better at this–if she were better at this, she would’ve been singing to him already. Telling him stories; telling him about their world and their house and their–about his parents. Speaking their language to him. 

His first word might’ve been Kryptonian, if she were better at this. 

And if she were better at this, Ma and Pa wouldn’t even have thought they had to go out in the storm and bring them down here to begin with. 

Kara cries a few more times, later, but only once Kal is sleeping and Ma and Pa think she’s sleeping too. She’s already disgraced herself enough for one day, and she can’t be trouble for them; can’t be difficult like this again. Like she keeps being. 

She can’t be, because as kind as they are, even Ma and Pa won’t put up with a useless farmhand forever. Can’t put up with a useless farmhand forever. There’s work to do. They need someone strong enough to help them bring in their harvests and carry their animals’ feed and Pa’s tools and Ma’s shopping and–and not make trouble, and–and if she can’t do that, they’ll send them away. And Kara can’t let that happen yet; not before she understands this planet well enough to take care of Kal on it by herself. 

So she can’t let that happen yet. And she can’t be useless, or difficult, or a disgrace. Can’t make trouble for Ma and Pa or get in their way. 

And she can’t let Kal see her any way but smiling. 

.

.

.

It’s silent, when Kara wakes up in the morning. The world is over, and she’s behind a locked door, and she didn’t even let her mother hold her one last time. 

She gets up and goes outside to help Ma and Pa clean up the mess from the storm and feed Kal breakfast and do the chores. 

She has to.

[thanergetic-hyperlinks]

I know we had a convo over whether or not Harrow saw the body/was « insane » and having just finished the htn reread, I’d like to reopen this discussion. I truly believe she saw the body (she was being haunted ffs) but I don’t believe she had (« other ») hallucinations. This is based off of her conversation with Ortus in the bubble when she’s lucid. Anyways, would love your opinion on that, and also, what do you think happened to Harrow?? I think she completely switched places with Alecto, creating the opposite of harrow in control with Alecto latched on.

Yeah, I agree with you on almost everything. Some of it is only fully confirmed after Nona (I will annotate those clues at the bottom of the post under a cut, to avoid Nona spoilers), but this is the way I understand it, and I'm going to detail it all in case anyone finds it interesting to compare notes:

I think the conversations about spirit magic in Harrow are key. HtN tells us in detail about thanergetic links and revenants and the River, which is vital to the River bubble plotline and the revenant Wake plotline. But we also learn among other things that Harrow kissed Alecto as a kid and her lip froze at the touch and they mixed blood. Alecto then shows up in Harrow's childhood hallucinations.

Harrow is in a really bad mental health state after her parents' death. This triggers her psychosis. By which I mean, Harrow does have schizophrenia, and it works the way the illness works in real life—trauma can lead to really bad episodes. Ortus later suggests “the mind forms indentations” due to trauma (he mentions his own PSTD flashbacks about his father being an abuser, hearing him when he was already dead) but he's not saying that her illness is solely PTSD after her parents' suicide or the Canaan events. And ultimately, Ortus is just suggesting one read of the situation. He isn't an authority on whether Harrow had a preexisting condition. Abigail will kindly to tell Harrow that she is being haunted, but that doesn't mean she's not also insane. Harrow's experience is only her own to define. None of these conversations confirm or deny that Harrow's only being haunted. However, the fragility of her state is implied to make her more likely to see what isn't there… and what is. Madness bringing you closer to What's Beyond The Veil is a common trope in horror stories, too. Abigail is a medium, she'd be unsurprised by this.

The Body in many ways acts like a total hallucination—she seemed to have different personalities depending on Harrow's age—but then we learn that in the Canaan bubble the ghosts had to improv over a certain script/situation, so spirits definitely can show different sides of themselves according to the limitations or needs placed by the summoner. Harrow also only hears the Body speaking with other people's voice and sees her eyes as Drearburh black but that's logical given she never heard her or saw her eyes.

The Body, like most of Harrow's experiences in this book, is carefully written to have multiple readings, for instance as a red herring for Gideon: is she dreaming bits of Gideon through the vessel of the Body, which now has suspiciously golden eyes? Even some of the stuff that only the Body could know, like “I died once… no, twice” could be attributed to Gideon by a determined reader on first read. In the end, however, it doesn't hold up, because later we

learn Gideon has already been poking out through the narrative voice,

see Gideon doesn't think of herself as having died more than once (she hasn't figured out that being God's daughter makes her immortal and brought her back during Avulsion, etc.)

discover that Alecto's eyes were really gold in life, which means this time her hallucination might be even more real than in Harrow's childhood, if there's a difference,

(1. Nona spoiler, check at the bottom).

So my take is that the Body really is Alecto's spirit/consciousness, venturing a little outside the Tomb through the thanergetic link established by Harrow's kiss (2. Nona spoiler, check at the bottom), that she nevertheless is summoned with certain limitations (her own dead/dreaming state, Harrow's knowledge of her appearance and voice, Harrow's needs) and that she finds Harrow available as a conduit because/while she's having psychotic breaks.

Now, did Harrow have other hallucinations? I think she might. The main one is Cytherea's body! Mind you, most of the time we see Wake-in-Cytherea, she's legitimately there, I think. Like the scene in which she walks in a terrifying way towards Harrow's door, like someone who doesn't know how to pilot a corpse yet (but will eventually). No, I'm thinking of the scene with Cytherea's corpse under Harrow's bed. Yes, the one Gideon is mad about, because she saw it through Harrow's eyes and brain. But you see, it's the one appearance of Cytherea that makes no sense whatsoever: she's under Harrow's bed, non-animated, not having triggered any of Harrow's wards, and then after Harrow locks her with bone, when Ianthe looks, the bone is still there and Cytherea isn't. This makes no sense. Wake is not an adept, cannot move Cytherea's body through the River, cannot cross Harrow's bone or blood wards, or leave behind perfectly intact bone cuffs. Ianthe was right: there was nothing there. (There's a post somewhere I tagged as #Ianthe where someone explained Ianthe's psychology in this moment.)

Now, the end scene. It's narrated in a very confusing way cause our three POV protagonists are kinda rubbing souls as they change bodies (that's why, later… (3. Nona spoiler, see at the bottom), but what happens is:

Harrow decides she won't go back to her body cause Gideon might be piloting it.

Harrow takes a Third Option and travels to what looks like the Tomb—but Harrow travels there *in spirit*.

Traveling along the same thanergetic link Alecto rode to her body, Harrow goes to the Tomb—or rather, to the River Bubble of the Tomb where Alecto has been, sleeping—remember, Harrow has no body so she can't be physically travelling through or out of the River. The Tomb is Alecto's own bubble. That's why the chains are broken and the Body is gone, even if in real life Alecto is still there bodily.

In this mind-version of the Tomb, she sees a trace of Gideon represented by a magazine—this Tomb might have been where Gideon's soul was *literally* resting while lyctorized, or it might simply be a representation in Harrow's mind of the fact that Gideon was inside Harrow and she left a bit of herself behind.

Harrow swims to the center moat and lays on the stone bed. By placing herself in the same equivalent space of the bubble where Alecto's body is in the actual Tomb, we're being told she fully inhabits Alecto's body (4. Nona spoiler, see at the bottom). She is, as you said, haunting her back. Because Alecto isn't there but inside Harrow, however, and because River pressure briefly killed Harrow's body until Alecto got in, Gideon is unfortunately yeeted out to the spirit realm, or possibly even back to her own uncorrupted body.

… I am a little concerned I've written all this from memory.

(1) We learn in Nona from Crux that Harrow used to “go away” as a child and claim not to be Harrowhark, so we get confirmation that her psychotic breaks from childhood were real and not just a post-lobotomy new memory—and also possibly she was being possessed then too?

(2) Alecto pledged some kind of vow to Anastasia, and part of it is that Harrowhark is a direct descendant of hers. Alecto realizes this in the Nona epilogue simply from “kissing” Harrow and tasting her blood a second time. Could Alecto have partly awakened, and therefore found a way to haunt Harrow in childhood, precisely because she already exchanged blood with Anastasia in preparation for her needing to haunt her way out of the Tomb in the future through one of her descendants?

(3) Nona regularly dreams of seeing herself come to Harrow's body through Gideon's eyes, but also possibly is mixing it with the Pool Scene?

(4) Alecto describes the stone bed as comfortable when remembering her first lying down on it, because she finds it very hard to have a spine (as I lay in bed with a TENS machine on, I fear this is very relatable). Harrow experiences the stone as infinitely confortable, like a welcoming bed. This is because she's connecting to Alecto's psychical body's perception, I think). Of course, in the John chapters of Nona, we see that Harrow is accessing Alecto's dreams. In these dreams, John seems to be not a fiction but the real bit of soul he put in Alecto. The dialogue is devoid of quote marks when the memories play as they originally went, but quote marks appear when John and Harrow break the script to have impromptu digressions, with John seemingly confused about who he's talking to in a sort of dreamlike way, leading to the “J+H” moment, and the final chapter happens on the River bank exiting the dream, in present time, no longer inside Alecto's mind.

[jakes-personal-blog]

Hey, I did not post anything, I was on vacation with the body's dad. I just wanted to warn you about someone. It is @astrothetherian . TW: (implied) SA, anti-endo

They said on one of my posts that they were going to touch me. They did that because I am endogenic. First of all: under any circumstances, do not say that to anybody. Second of all: what the fuck. The body is a minor, it is literally written on my intro. Third of all: even if I am an adult, I want all interaction to be SFW. And last of all: alterhuman is a pro-endo term so remove it from your bio, and PSTD is a trauma based disorder, not DID, OSDD, UDD or more who are DISSOCIATION based disorders.

Also, breaking your own DNI is faking hilarious.

[mixissecretjournal]

🥀 Some angst incoming 🥀 not too bad ig idk haha, fluff too half way through so skip down to the chain on love hearts and thats where the fluff begins, mentions of anxiety, depression, pstd (only listed like that), character x reader, dating hcs, mentions of reader dying but it's just more of a anxious thought, mentions of bad mental health, unintention love bombing,

I promise it's not a crazy and long as the warnings seem 😭 I'm just trying to make sure it doesn't trigger anyone 🫶

Character: Yuta Okkotsu

Omg where do I even start, my poor baby. He's been through so much :((( Loving him, would be amazing but slow, I mean come on, he lost his first love, and she cursed him. He's gonna need some time. I doubt you guys would date while rika's still there, maybe halfway through his first year when he had her under control. It might be a safe time to start dating, then? But boy is it a ride.

He has anxiety, depression and pstd (not 100% cannon, but girl, it's implied asf in my opinion). He's gonna need to take things slow. He loves you! He really does! But he's been through so much.

He wouldn't give you jewellery for a long time, possibly not even when he gets into his second year. What if you die and haunt him like rika? What if you die and HE TURNS YOU into something like rika? How could he live with himself if he did that again, especially to you.

Loves going on dates, buying you flowers, everything that makes you happy is done. But sometimes he forgets his meant to be happy too. Don't get him wrong he loves being around you and giving you stuff, but then it leaves him drained and doubting you love him. Does that make sense? Let me try to explain. So he would love bomb you COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONALLY OFC and then would immediately be like, "She doesn't do that for me," but he doesn't give you a chance to sometimes. It's just his mental health getting in the way, plus the fact that he's never seen a happy/healthy relationship. How is he meant to act? But with time and help from his friends and you plus some self reflection, he learns how to love you and himself properly ❤️

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Now for some happy ones!!

Forehead and hand kisses!! 🙌 Brushes his hands through your hair all the time, goes somewhat easy on you during training, PICINIC DATES!! I REPEAT PICINIC DATES!! , beach dates, aquarium dates...literally dates in general he just loves taking you on them, first to text or say gm and gn because he just is, GIVES YOU FLOWERS ANYTIME HE CAN GET AN EXCUSE TO, more of a hand made gift giver than money, reads to you so you can fall asleep.

I can't think of anything else because it's late and I'm tired but there will definitely be more yuta content!!

°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡° °♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°☆°♡°

[hfuhthfurhhbh]

Ragatha PSTD

I’m pretty sure that Ragatha has PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder); in fact, I did some research and found that Ragatha’s behavior is very similar to the symptoms of this mental illness.

What is PTSD?

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that can develop after experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event. This might include violence, accidents, life-threatening situations, or experiences that cause intense emotional pain

How This Relates to Ragatha

In The Amazing Digital Circus, Ragatha may show signs that resemble PTSD:

Traumatizing environment: The Digital Circus is a surreal and often hostile space where characters are trapped without understanding why. Being stuck in an uncontrollable and chaotic place like that could be traumatic in itself.

Hypervigilance and forced positivity: Ragatha often appears tense or overly cheerful, as if she’s forcing herself to stay positive to avoid breaking down. This can be seen as a coping mechanism – a way to manage the stress she’s constantly under.

Avoidance of pain: Instead of addressing the unsettling reality around her, Ragatha might be focusing on small distractions or routines to avoid confronting her emotional distress – another possible sign of trauma.

Implied past trauma: The show hints that each character had a life before entering the Digital Circus. It’s possible that Ragatha experienced trauma in the real world that still affects her even in this strange new reality.

[roboyomo]

🙌 and 🍎 for kenix!!!!! I have decided I enjoy this guy

HELLOOOOOO JESSEEEEEEEEEEEE🎉🎉🎉‼️‼️‼️ also also i am flattered that the funny multitudes guy brings you joy he SURELY brings only joy to me,,,

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Okay so this is. A Tricky one for sure. The thing is that Kenix had an older brother and a younger sister. Keyword HAD because well. They're dead now that is part of his whole ordeal in the early story where he sees the opportunity to end their lives as a way to avenge himself for what they have inflicted upon him. However! That doesn't mean that his siblings in the OG timeline are dead as well. And they are literally part of the Order, which is where they all work at in the corporation. And that makes it quite awkward because Yi Ha-neul (the older brother) gets PSTD from seeing Kenix but also still doesn't know that Kenix does not equal to Ken which is the same with Yi Ae-ra who doesn't know about the two separate Yi Dals within one body but she still hates Kenix for being an annoying little bitc— (/JOKING). But then there is also the whole ordeal with Kenix and Ken being called "Twin gods of time" which implies at least Some Degree of a brotherly dynamic. But tbh they call and see each other more as the other version of themselves still. So it is Complicates but for sure the main timeline versions of Kenix's siblings are still indeed his siblings and none of the two like Kenix. Neither does he so it's perfectly fine if he is being extra annoying with them ^_^ perfectly fair ^_^

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Ough. Now this is the one. The whole thing between him and his parents is how much inferior he felt to them, good fucking lord. He was mostly reduced to a "servant" of some sort, which is really about how he needed to seek value in himself through being useful to his family. Obeying orders? No questions asked, although it may hurt, he will at least get some attention. No matter positive or negative. He doesn't have a say in anything, it is all just listening to what he is told to do. And his parents made that decision consciously. There is no reason for that, not that Kenix even knows of one, but it was like he was destined to be unacknowledged by them. He is scared to take up space, because what if they find something to be angry about? He may be seeking attention but not in the form of scolding. It is still terrifying to him to this very day. He genuinely felt like a little tiny organism not deserving to be given attention with how obvious that his siblings were favored far more than him. Like his parents' treatment towards him made him think that he doesn't have the right to exist in this place without value or a purpose. Reinforcing that idea into his consciousness.

Nowadays he can't talk to his parents at all, because yk. They are Also Dead along with his siblings. But it is very veryyy much obvious that he wasn't on good terms with his parents.

made the image specifically for this ask ^_^

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

6. “Not to be dramatic, but I’m back from the dead. Hope y’all missed me.” With Virgil and Remus?

Title: On a Stormy Sea of Emotion

Word-Count: 1.7k

Summary:

"Not to be dramatic, but I'm back from the dead. Surprise!" Remus shoots a pair of finger guns, droplets of blood spraying out from his finger tips, "Hope y'all missed me."

The cloaked figure, the target of his finger guns, does not move. Their facemask, elegantly carved to mimic a raven, stares Remus down apathetically.

Remus laughs, clasping his hands behind his neck as he leans against a building that makes up the alleyway of their standoff, "C'mon, old man. I clawed myself out of the grave and this is how you treat your 'beloved son, departed from the earth too soon?'"

OR: a Superhero AU featuring Jason Todd coded-Remus.

Pairing: parental dukexity

Warnings: Superhero AU, Death mentions, blood mention, vomit mention, implied self harm, pstd flashback, morally grey characters, angst with ambiguous ending

Thank you for the prompt! This infected my brain all last night and today, hope you enjoy <3

-

Killing isn't that hard of an action, really. There is a million ways to kill someone. Guns, knives, poison or the way Remus liked it--using your bare hands. It wasn't always the most effective, but when your target knocks your knife out of your hands--well, then you gotta go for the jugular.

Remus hums as he picks up his knife, examining it. The blood dripping from its blade landed on his gloves, coating it with a metallic stench. One time as a kid, he received a paper cut and out of curiosity, he stuck his finger inside his mouth to taste his own blood.

It just had a copper tangy taste, not very appetizing. But well, he's never tried someone else's blood, what if it had a different taste? Would a greedy drug lord's blood taste too greasy? Tainted by their lack of remorse and regard for the suffering and lives destroyed in their avaricious pursuit of wealth?

He is almost halfway to enacting on such an impulse, when something shifts behind him. He turns around swiftly, his knife meeting nothing but air. But there is something there, or rather someone.

Remus cackles, his eyes darting around his surroundings. There, in the shadows of the nearby dumpster. He lowers his knife, putting it away for now.

His heart clangs loudly against his ribcage as his ears began to clamor with a loud ringing noise. This moment has always been inevitable since the second he decided to remain in this hellish city.

Remus is many things, but he is not a fool nor is he a coward. He is exhilarated this moment has come at last. Not terrified.

"Hello daddy dearest," He calls out, "it's been a while."

His words are enough to draw out the cloaked figure from out of the shadows.

"Not to be dramatic, but I'm back from the dead. Surprise!" Remus shoots a pair of finger guns, droplets of blood spraying out from his finger tips, "Hope y'all missed me."

The cloaked figure, the target of his finger guns, does not move. Their facemask, elegantly carved to mimic a raven, stares Remus down apathetically.

Remus laughs, clasping his hands behind his neck as he leans against a building that makes up the alleyway of their standoff, "C'mon, old man. I clawed myself out of the grave and this is how you treat your 'beloved son, departed from the earth too soon?'"

He already knows the truth; maybe there was a time this man had regarded him as a beloved son. Back when Remus had been a quiet, subdued child, perfectly manageable and obedient. But that time had long passed.

"I know I probably should've stayed dead but you know me! I'm not great at following rules."

Virgil Storm, or in this case, "The Raven" still doesn't do anything. It is a little unnerving, actually. Remus had expected there to be harsh words thrown his way, or perhaps even be pinned into a chokehold by this point in the interaction.

The Raven doesn't kill. During his first bout at the whole being alive thing, that been a contentious point between the two. Yet, would an abomination like Remus count as a living being?

"And," Remus says abruptly, shifting his weight against the wall, "you can't kill me. You can try, but like. It won't work. I jumped off like a twenty story building--went splat! Like a bug, it was really messy, but I didn't die. Um, you can take a DNA sample to prove it's me--"

"Remus?" The Raven speaks at last, his voice garbled and gravelly from the voice modifier of the mask.

"Yeah, it's me. I mean, we both know Prince Boring doesn't have the guts to pull off a prank like this," Remus smirks, "I'm sure he's happy that I haven't been around to play screamo when I have the aux or fill his backpack with severed Barbie doll heads."

The Raven's cloaked figure starts staggering towards him. Remus moves to stand upright once more, his body tensing. He can take the punch, it'll hurt but it won't leave any bruises. Remus has done enough experimenting to know he can't be physically harmed anymore. At least not permanently in any way that matters.

But rather a punch thrown his way, the Raven's arms seize hold of him. Not around his neck, but around his body, as the Raven leans around him, his cloak wrapping around Remus like a blanket. He is...hugging Remus? What the fuck?

A cold pricking sensation hits Remus, spreading out through every inch of his body. But he does not move to resist the Raven's embrace.

"I'm sorry," His adoptive father murmurs, "I made so many mistakes, I was afraid but I shouldn't have allowed my fear to control me in the way that I did--"

"Aren't you paranoid?" Remus whispers, "What if I'm not actually Remus? What if I'm just a shapeshifter pretending to be him? Or--or something else?"

"But I know you're you. Do you really think I wouldn't have investigated the assumed grave robbery of my son's corpse?" The Raven counters, "I already have a DNA sample I collected from your confrontation with the Dragon Witch analyzed."

Of course, of course Virgil already had a DNA sample. To any sane person, this might've been a horrifying realization. But for Remus, who spent ten years under the man's roof, this was perfectly normal behavior of a man obsessive enough to run around as a nonpowered cloaked vigilante.

"Remus, you have every reason to hate me or even Roman," The voice modifier pitched upwards in an odd high tone, "but would you'd be willing to come home for at least Janus's sake?"

Remus forgets how to breathe for a moment. There are many reasons why he hasn't sought out his family. He isn't sure if he is willing to accept Virgil's apology, much less risk seeing Roman's face again. But Janus is different. He has always understood Remus in the ways the others never did.

Despite Janus being Virgil's "man in the chair" as it were, he has never operated with the same morals. Remus will never forget the time some henchmen broke into their secret hideout while Virgil and Roman had been away on a mission. Janus had not hesitated to put lead directly into their foreheads.

"I'm afraid I don't indulge in the same mercy as your father," Janus had said, tidying up the mess they'd left behind, "It is my duty to preserve the safety of those I've been sworn to protect, even if comes at the lives of others."

The Raven is a vigilante that is shrouded in mystery. There are rumors that circulate the streets that the Raven is inhuman, a being that moves swiftly and strikes without warning. Some even dare to whisper about the unfortunate ends that some of the Raven's victims have met. What they don't know is that last bit is all of Janus's doing.

It's why Remus has never understood Virgil's hypocrisy. He'll turn a blind eye to Janus's actions but Remus, roughing up a thug a little too harshly? Oh no, no, no, that was the most heinous thing Remus could ever do.

(He wonders what his adoptive father thinks of his actions not only tonight, but the past few months. Isn't this everything his father feared and more? Putting aside the whole "not being dead" thing, isn't this enough to make him irredeemable in the Raven's eyes?)

"Janus?" Remus hesitates, "would he be willing to make his tea?"

"For you, I am sure he is willing to prepare a full spread of pastries along with a pot of tea. He has...missed you a lot, Remus."

Remus's stomach rumbles. He hasn't eaten in weeks--not since he realized his body technically doesn't need food to survive. But he does need Janus's pastries. Those pastries are never a want, but a necessity.

"Okay, I'll go." Remus says, craning his neck to meet the Raven's gaze, "but only because I'm hungry."

Somehow, this causes a snort from his adoptive father. The closest thing resembling a laugh that the Raven will ever do. When he is not the Raven, and is simply Virgil--sometimes the man will actually laugh. Even so, that snort is the closest thing to a laugh that Remus has heard from the man in close to a year before his death.

Remus's legs buckle beneath him, almost bringing the Raven down with him. But it's not from the shock of the old man laughing. No, it's more likely his body protesting his week long streak of not sleeping.

It seems even though he doesn't require as much sleep as before, he still requires a certain amount of it. Or at least, that is what makes the most sense in his hazy racing thoughts.

"I've got you," Virgil whispers, his words unfettered by the voice modifier, "you're safe now."

Arms gather underneath him, as a long Kevlar cloak is draped around his wiry figure. An unwanted memory drifts to the surface; a time where his kid self demanded to be carried home and the Raven obliged without complaint. Roman had trailed after them, begging to be carried as well.

Janus had taken one look at their return (Roman clinging to Virgil's back like a baby koala while Remus was cradled in his arms) and simply raised an eyebrow. But it was clear through his stifled breathing that he found the entire thing comical.

Remus doesn't want to fall unconscious. He'll deny it, protest it with a wide grin and a cackle, that death doesn't scare him. But he is terrified of pitch black darkness.

He fears a confined undetermined space that is meant to seal him away deep in the ground. He fears wood splinters underneath his fingernails as he chokes on dirt as he continues to dig upwards, driven by an urge to survive--to break out of the ground to blessed, fresh air. He fears staring at a gravestone and just laughing until he started vomiting clods of dirt.

What if Virgil is lying about Janus? What if he decides to bury Remus again, this time in a coffin made out of titanium or reinforced concrete--dooming him to a living death?

"No," He mumbles, attempting to grasp tightly to Virgil's cloak, "I don't--"

But his eyes flutter shut against his volition, and he can only hope that they truly did miss him enough; that the words carved on his gravestone were genuine and sincere.

Remus Seagrove

20XX-20XXX

Beloved Son, Brother, Friend

Dearly Missed and Departed from the Earth too Soon

[roxanneslosteyes]

Headcanon for angst in a way and explaining Anastacha look like she have lack of sleep

Tw/cw: brief mentions of implied PSTD, Ablestism, war (a fictional war) and how schools were in 1950s

I feel like Anastacha was very little (ages around toddler ages 1-3) when the war was happening. I feel like the war messed up her develop as a toddler.

She used to run to her mum, Nacha every time the firearms and bombs went off for security.

Now she is a teenager, she can't sleep properly due to nightmares of the war. She couldn't tell her teacher or any trustful adult about this or she would be sent away to an asylum for being "crazy"

she can't fall asleep in class or she would get up getting a cruel punishment due to the strict rules of the time period.

[daebraeksan]

Getting triggered in a (pre)sexual situation with Nagi & he is patient and kind about it

contents 

NSFW elements, vague age, could be seen as college student or adult!Nagi, Reader with DID/PSTD (anxiety/depression/mental illness) who has gone to/is currently in therapy [as always anyone can read this, but i provide this extra info for context :) /], reader with past history of sexual trauma, exploring feelings about sexual, physical, and romantic aspects of relationship, height difference (short reader), reader is triggered during kissing and starts crying; some mental health event happens during kissing i don't know, nagi is very patient and respectful; abandonment issues, reader is certain nagi is going to break up with them (nagi will not)

tags 

Everyone is an adult in an unspecified location AU, nagi has his own apartment AU, the apartment is really the only important physical location that matters so like, i don’t really care lol, go wild, established relationship, reader has never dated before, reader little to no romantic/dating experience, implied past sexual trauma,

word count

3045

!#@!@#!@#!@#!@#!@#

Poor Nagi didn’t get any Valentine's chocolates when he was in school. Times when he felt sexual frustration were so few and far between, and when he did, poor Nagi was often too lazy to do anything about it. There’s nothing sad about being a late bloomer; everyone is different. Having fun in a specific way now versus later are incomparable or equal, but not better or worse than each other. 

For various, and some of those were surprisingly similar, reasons, your relationship with Nagi started slowly. Both of you were uncertain whether the other liked you. Both of you were hesitant to admit to yourselves you liked the other. For both of you, it was too much of a hassle at first. Feelings are complicated and you both didn’t want to get into anything that was going to harm or disturb you. It was Nagi who, by inadvertent accident, finally steeled your resolve, and spurred you to make your move, which started the “romantic” (?) aspect of your relationship.  

Hardly anything in your life is “easy” but for all the struggle you go through to live a “normal” life that other people take for granted, Nagi is an excellent partner to go through it all. Your head spins as you are treated with gentleness, humor, love, and respect. Your paranoid brain questions every act of kindness, moreso now that a “romantic” element throws your body in a tailspin. It’s new territory you don’t know. Your friendship with Nagi brought you so much joy, and those aspects haven’t been removed. You are always grateful to have a person who provides a safe space for you in your life. You cherish these people, few and far between, who you hold tightly to your heart, a dragon guarding less than 10 gems which feels like piles and piles of countless gold coins. 

All the work in your life hasn’t been for nothing. You are aware of how distant your insecurities feel sometimes. Their presence remains, memory cells floating in a busy abyss. You're grateful for your coping strategies that saved you. You are grateful for your new experiences and new strategies that can allow you to live the life you want to live going forward. You aren’t quite stuffing your insecurities to the bottom of your brain, the tartarus of your memory, but only because you don’t want any part of you to feel abandoned, lost, or hated. 

The thought of roadblocks and stumbling stones in the romantic (?) aspect of your relationship causes you worry sometimes, and you accept the newness and confusion with as much grace and compassion as you can.

The physical and sexual aspect of your relationship is going to drive you insane. It already is, and it will continue to do so.

Physical touch is already a stressful thing for you. Always. With anyone. You did not have positive physical touch growing up. You went through your childhood and adolescence touch starved, and have gone through your adulthood thus far incredibly touch starved, as well. You know what you want, you don’t know what you want, you know other people seem to be getting what they want (and what you want), and you don’t know how. Whatever they do won’t work for you anyway. You’ve tried and failed, with results ranging from unfortunate to disastrous. You can’t handle any more worst case scenarios. (You can, and will if they ever emerge. But you will not put yourself in those situations on purpose, and you will always leave a dangerous situation because you are capable of protecting yourself.) 

“Nagi is permissive.” This is one way to describe an aspect of his personality. That word stresses you out. You are so scared of hurting people (the way you were hurt.) You have long isolated yourself because you didn’t think you could get your needs met and keep people safe at the same time. (You were very hard on yourself and when you let people be responsible for their actions instead of taking the blame, you can learn that you were trustworthy all alone, and people, your loved ones, already trust you!)

“Nagi is too lazy to care either way.”  This is another way to describe Nagi in many situations. This also causes you pause, worry, and sends you in a tail spin sometimes. While your communication in other aspects of your life has improved drastically through your dedication and hard work, communication about physical touch causes its own problems because of the subject matter. Mainly, you can’t ask for what you want. You’re too protective of yourself (well, you’re alive, so it worked) and you don’t want to throw yourself in situations where you could be rejected and disappointed if it’s going to cause you so many problems.

Yet, you want emotional and physical intimacy, so you have to accept the fact that you want opposing things at times, sometimes at the same time. And it’s very frustrating and confusing. And, you’re not going to lie, in your worst moments, your insecurities about being too much, and too much trouble, emerge regarding this aspect of your relationship with Nagi. You only have one option, which is to work through it. You’re not giving up, and you’re not giving up on your relationship with Nagi. You're not giving him up for anything. (Unless he wants, but he doesn’t, so you don’t have to go through that qualifier. But you’re you, so you still splatter your disclaimers on anything and everything, because you don’t want to hurt people like how you've been hurt.) 

All of this is to say, with help from your loved ones, you were able to figure out that Nagi is okay with you cuddling with him, and he was okay with that before you started your romantic endeavors with him, too. You can’t hold his hand when he’s gaming, but sometimes he’ll still let you lean up against him. 

All your romantic firsts with Nagi are special to you, and all your first time experiences in general with him (or to be fair, anyone) are special. First time going to the amusement park together, watching a movie, cooking together (he is mostly moral support, but you still count it <3), first “date.” You cherish your first kiss. Your first and every subsequent makeout session excites you. You have days where it’s all you think about. Your sex drive is far higher than Nagi’s, but he’ll play with your pussy almost whenever you ask. Sometimes his full attention is on you, gaze hot and excited, enraptured with your pants and sounds, and sometimes he’ll play with you while he’s watching his shows or streams, something casual enough to where he’ll throw in an occasional deadpan observation of you that flushes you with the kind of humiliation and desperation that is so exciting to feel (the kind you only feel safe enough to feel with Nagi.) You can’t pick a favorite. His attention and praise fills you with white hot pleasure and your brain feels overflown in the present moment with him. The feeling of being carried away safely, because it’s Nagi, allowing you to be solidly grounded in the moment, because you don’t want to be anywhere else except overwhelmed by Nagi. 

Excited at the thought of experiencing these feelings again, you close the door to his bedroom and stand on your tiptoes and you still can’t reach his face. You cling to his shirt, pulling to coax him down to where you can reach. He towers over you, a hand over your head. You stare into his beautiful eyes and let out a tentative whine. 

“No patience at all.” Nagi’s lower, rough voice sends a jolt through you, and then he’s kissing you. Finally. 

There’s no pressure for Nagi to be creative when he touches you. For as bad as you think you are at communicating, you give him just enough to fill in the blanks that your body language leaves. Your body and voice are so expressive, and he doesn’t know how he knows what you want, but he does. You also seem pretty happy with anything he does. It makes him feel so powerful to make you so happy without even trying (that hard). Especially as time goes on and you get to know each other’s likes and tastes more and more, he likes the way you make him feel like in these moments, he is your whole world. He is all you need. Your enraptured expression, completely taken by him, the way your attention can’t be dragged to anything else makes him feel seen, and he likes the feeling. He wants you to see him.

He knows how to make you happy. When he doesn’t feel like putting in effort, but still wants to spend time with you, he knows how to make you feel good. He knows how to get results. 

But the way you motivate him surprises him every time. He knows you like it sometimes, when he pretends he’s more focused on his streams than you. You like it, so he lets you believe he is more focused on his streams than he really is. But making you feel good is like no game he’s ever played. It’s a fun game, an exciting game, riveting, all-consuming, to try and read you, try and figure out what it is you want him to do, what your body language and whines are leading him to do. You’re so easy to read, it feels like you were made for him. When you whine louder and louder, he wants you to feel like he was made for you, too.

He has to let you catch your breath eventually. He uses this time to feel proud of himself, smug at his handiwork, as he looks down at your dazed expression. You look like you miss him already. Your shy, worried expression you get as you feel better and better with the sinful way you move against his body, begging for more.

He feels protective of you and never wants to let you go. He never wants you to feel hurt again and he wants to be the one to make sure of that. He wants to be there to support you through everything and he wants you by his side always, too. 

He crowds you to the bed and you scramble up, and he crawls after you, and looms over you, the only image you want to see. 

He descends, body heavy on yours, kisses you more. You never would have thought you could like the taste of someone’s mouth like you do Nagi’s. You can’t get enough of the way his tongue feels, the strength of his hands when he grips you. You’re so loud, which Nagi loves, and is fun for you, too, but the moments when you’re about to hear his noises, grunts and gasps and exhales, makes your tummy swoop, and you cling to him tighter. You tangle your fingers in his beautiful hair. It calms you to touch it. You like holding his head like that while he kisses your neck. You hate that he has to stop kissing your lips in order to kiss your neck because you love both so much.

Nagi is patient and attentive. He can’t get bored when he sees and hears how much you are enjoying it. 

The silence has dragged on a bit too long, much longer than you need to catch your breath, and he knows you’re impatient. You act like you don’t care about breathing anymore when you kiss him, which makes him feel like king of the world, of course, but also, he wants you to breathe. 

He pulls away to assess the situation. Your fingers are still in his hair, which he loves, but your body is heavy, a lot less pliable than normal, and your gaze is frozen somewhere else, expression not dazed and needy like he likes seeing you. You look like something else. Lost in thought or somewhere else in general. 

“Baby.”

You twitch your fingers in his hair, but don’t look at him or say anything. 

“Angel?”

You remove your hand from his hair and squirm under him. He rolls off you onto his side and watches you.

“Are you okay?”

You curl away from him slightly, so he adjusts his body too, giving you some more space. 

He’s really worried, but he doesn’t want to worry you more, if something really is wrong. He knows and trusts you will tell him eventually, even if you can’t right now. 

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” you say quickly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You look conflicted. 

“I don’t have to. I just want you to know I love you. What do you need right now?”

You’re frozen. You don’t even feel like you can bury your head in the pillow like you want to. Well, actually, what you really want to do is bury your head in Nagi’s chest, but you definitely don’t think or feel like you can do that.

“Do you want me to go? Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” you choke out. “I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “If there’s something you want me to do, when you can, can you tell me?”

Horrified, you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “I want to help you, and can if you want me to, but I don’t have to do anything, either, if you don’t want.”

As focused as you were when you were kissing him and into it, you are now equally and opposingly scattered. Of the millions thoughts and anxieties and worries freefalling in your head, what a lot of them boil down to are: a) you are horrible; and b) he’s not going to like you anymore.

“I’m here for you,” he says. “It’s okay if you want to cry, if you feel like it.”

The sobs escape your mouth without you feeling like you let them. 

He hands you tissues and stays with you quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, which doesn’t feel good to say. It feels like you are betraying yourself. But there was no way you were going to win the fight to overcome the urge to say it. Not right now. 

“I don’t want you to say that,” Nagi says. “About crying to me ever again.”

“Sorry,” you say, because at this point you’ve given up, and have fully accepted that Nagi will probably most definitely never want to see you ever again.

“You can say sorry, and I’ll tell you it’s okay, but I just want you to know. I want it on record that I don’t want an apology for you sharing your emotions with me. Thank you for trusting me with them. I am honored.”

You cry some more, hiccupping and loud. 

Once you have a tiny pile of tissues, which you push off the bed into the bin Nagi got up and retrieved for you, you feel satisfyingly empty, like how one does, after having a good cry.

“I love you,” Nagi says promptly.

“I love you, too,” you rasp out. 

He gazes at you calmly.

You and him are opposites in some ways. One important way is he is never in a rush and you are always in a rush. So even though you know he would never rush you into anything, whether it’s talking or sex or leaving the house for some event or activity, your own traitorous brain yells at you, guilts you, warns you that he’s going ot leave no matter what anyway, so what are you even doing?

“Can I stay?” you ask in a small voice. 

He blinks at you. “...what?”

“Can I still stay here? Even though we’re not.” You gulp around nothing. Your throat convulses. “Or I can go,” you say quickly because you don’t want to cause trouble or be shameless or assume or any of the horrible things that you could do wrong.

“You should always do whatever you want,” he says. “But if you’re asking me, I’d like if you stayed.”

“Okay,” you whisper, searching your chest for the relief you think you should be feeling. A win! Right? You don’t have to do something you’re scared of, and you get what you really wanted in the first place. All you ever want is Nagi. 

“Can I still.” You wish words weren’t so hard. For all that everyone makes fun of you for constantly talking, why can’t you when it really matters? You search for the extroverted part of you, and you feel tumbleweeds where a peppy, bubbly personality should be. 

Great. Abandoned. As per usual. 

Nagi doesn’t rush you. He never rushes you. Logically, you know this, from past experience, and he continues in this moment. He’s so still. The opposite of your racing thoughts. The opposite of the fight or flight response pumping your body up to prepare for maximum danger and threat levels. He’s so still as he watches you, with his ever lidded eyes, eyes you usually feel so secure staring into, and would for hours on end, if you could. 

You know these eyes are open to you. They demand nothing. You try to remember that he would never implore you for anything, and the only person rushing you is you.

“I want to stay,” you say. 

“I want you to stay,” he says.

“I want.” Why is it so horrifying to ask for things? To ask for anything. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Nagi says.

This time, relief crashes through your system, louder this time, bursting through a window, the sound of glass shattering cascading through your veins. 

He opens himself up to you, like he always does, and you slot yourself against his body, like you’ve been wanting this whole time. You try to calm yourself down. You try to stop trying. You try to let Nagi take care of you, like he is so good at doing. 

He kisses the top of your head, and he waits with you until you feel better. And you do, eventually. You always do.

[meepthemeeping]

TW for the chapter 3 update: PSTD, NIGHTMARES, DEATH (IMPLIED)

Then You Showed Up

sequelseagull

Summary:

Cöen has always been a romantic at heart, even if he wouldn't say it out loud. After dancing with a handsome man at Lambert's wedding, he soon catches feelings. Now he has goat size teeth marks on his pants legs and an crush on his best friend's brother.

He's sure Eskel doesn't feel the same, but a man can hope.

[darkandlightdance]

Doing the last Shadowbringers Craft/Gather quest is like, yes we do have pstd from sudden explosions but we are very good at covering for it. Especially when there are kids around. But when the fireworks first went off the face my WoL made is just a picture of "oh shit, explosions" and it takes a bit of Katliss talking before a smile comes back.

If they kept the character depth that implied consistent throughout it would be interesting but I don't think that works with mmo's. :(

[angst-king]

A man by many names Pt 8

(Cw implied stalking, branding, description of PSTD like symptoms/panic attack, & gore)) The news was all over them, they couldn’t escape it now. And Dabi had left his mark, ensuring they had targets on their backs. Many wondered why the sudden attack on them and their home. Some tried to dismiss it as Dabi just causing chaos as usual, he never truly had a set target audience and was just seen as a chaos creator and peace disrupter. He decided to be distinct about it this time, leaving a mark that couldn’t be ignored.

“I know what you did” was burned into their skins. He made sure others would eye them with suspicion, he made sure those burns would not be easy to hide or cover-up. When they scarred over from rapid healing you would still be able to know what it says. Whispers and murmuring haunted them every time they walked past them. When they got to their hero agency they would see it had been vandalized and littered with dismembered limbs and entrails of organs. A note had been left for them.

‘Hello Switch and Charge, I hope you’re having a wonderful day. How are those burns, they look horrible! Though I’m sure they are, maybe now you’re starting to feel an ounce or more of the fear and pain you put (Y/n) through. Maybe not, but by the end of this I will make sure you certainly do. Try as you may I will not allow you to perform as if you were and are loving parents who tragically lost their child. Cause I know you aren’t, I know you two are the sick fucks who put their baby through hell and have the audacity to blame the child. I know you sit around acting like this publicity of their disappearance is a burden, however. I will teach you the real meaning of ‘burden’, I will teach you what fear truly feels like. I will make you live through what you put (y/n) through, and so much more. So go ahead, cry to the news, cry to the cameras about how much you miss your poor baby, and pray for their return night and day. Go ahead.’ Charge grumbled and shredded up the letter threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

“Stupid fucking brat of a villain thinking they can scare me. Like I’m ever gonna be scared of some fucking twerp. Putting up another villain to do his dirty work.” He rolled his eyes and went into the lounge to grab a drink but the fridge was beaten and battered, beer bottles and glass scattered about in a mess. Charge growled in frustration and kicked the appliance.

It was a late chilly night and Deku was back to upping his kill count. Stocking up on ‘food’ and taking out anyone who thought had to go. He had decided to take a small break on the sidewalk, it was a seemingly peaceful night. The only problem was the heroes, his murder sprees and targeting of certain pro heroes have put the other agencies on high alert. Which meant more heroes were patrolling the area. So he’d have to watch his back-

“HEY!” Shit. Izuku froze, he recognized that voice, no matter how long it had been or how old they got. He always recognized that voice. That grough, gravely, growling voice belonged to one explosive blond. In a flash Dynamite stood right in front of him. And Izuku’s hands were covered in blood, not exactly innocent looking.

“The hell are you doing out here covered in blood?!” Izuku tried to run but his shoulder was quickly grabbed in a burning death grip. Heat radiating and scorching through his clothes, the heat grew stronger and stronger as the hero demanded answers from him. Izuku’s heart was racing, pounding against his chest, as he looked up wide eyedly at him. He yelped and howled in pain as memories flashed through his mind. Memories he thought he had buried deep underground, memories he wished were never there.

Katsuki yanked his mask and hood off of him and stopped.

“Deku?” Deku then began to scream for help, screaming at the top of his lungs ragging through his throat as he squirmed and fought to get away. Fighting and clawing through memories that threatened to pull him under like rough seas of the ocean. He remembered middle school, he remembered always walking and gearing up to be thrown into the wall. Grabbed and yanked around, kicked and beaten. How their dirty sneakers jammed their way into his rib and face when they got him on the ground. How he scurried like a bug trying to avoid being crushed beneath them. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, and cried for mercy, he would be ignored and forced to take it. Not anymore No! Not anymore! Not ever again!

In one swift motion, he got Katsuki’s wrist in the perfect position for him to open his mouth as wide as possible and come snapping down. Crunching down on flesh, muscles, nerves, tendons, and bones. It wasn’t enough to take the hero’s hand off even when he shook his head like a dog, his teeth tearing and shredding through it. It was enough for Katsuki to let go and scream. Deku released with enough time to drive his heel into Katsuki’s sternum and run like a bat out of hell. Katsuki tried to chase after him but by the time his senses had come back to him he had no idea on what direction the other ran in. He did ask around for the others to keep a lookout, but so far there were no sightings.

Meanwhile, Izuku was running like his life depended on it, even if no one was chasing him, his adrenaline was taking over. His need to be safe was taking control, all he wanted was to get home. He didn’t even care to use the doors this time, he jumped through his window as soon as he got it open. What he had forgotten in his trauma-addled mind was that you were sleeping in his bed that night. He was curled up on the floor, his breathing ragged and shallow, coughing and choking for air as tears rained down his face like a storm. His entire body trembled as he pushed his head between his knees. He could still hear the explosions from the blasts Katsuki would send at him, how they’d shake the space around him, and rattle his bones. How they’d make his ears ring and bleed for minutes or hours at a time. He could still remember the words Katsuki spat at him venomously over the years consuming his mind. Nails digging and clawing through his clothes and into his skin drawing blood.

“Dadda?” You called out confusedly as you woke up to the sound of Izuku’s panicking. You turned on the light and saw him on the floor. He was crying, you could see he was upset, but you didn’t know why. You saw the way he clawed at himself hopped off the bed and padded over to him.

“Dadda stop you’re hurting yourself.” You could only grab one of his hands they were much bigger than your own, pulling them away from him. You felt him shake under your touch as he screamed and begged for help. You had never seen him like this before but he had seen you like this and you remembered what he would do for you. You went back to the bed and grabbed one of the blankets dragged it over to him and placed it over top of him. Then you hugged him as tightly as you could while calling to him.

“Dadda! Dadda look at me!” It took a few tries before he looked up at you eyes glowing a bright red. They looked so scared, so hurt.

“It's gonna be okay Dadda, please don’t cry. I got you” You gently patted his head and felt his arms wrap around you. He still cried but he was starting to take deep breathes now. You didn’t care how sleepy you were you wanted to make sure Izuku was okay. He held onto you like how you held onto your stuffed animals. You didn’t dare move, not out of fear but out of concern. You had never seen Izuku like this and didn’t like it, it was frightening to see someone so strong act like this but. You didn’t hate it, you just didn’t like that he was so hurt.

Once he quieted down he apologized wearily and let you go. However, you stayed beside him and asked what happened. Izuku shuddered at the memory of what transpired and said.

“I saw someone who used to hurt me, and they hurt me again.” You frowned, you didn’t want your Dadda getting hurt. Then you asked.

“Will you be okay?” He nodded and slowly got up, brushing his hair back and wincing at his injuries both self and externally inflicted.

“Yeah, just gonna bandage myself up.” He croaked out as he wiped the tears that still ran down his cheeks. God, he hated how fragile he just looked, how he looked like a frail deer in headlights back in the alleyway. Made his stomach churn the more he thought about it. He slinked into the bathroom grabbed the first aid kit and started cleaning up the blood on his hands and the still bleeding cuts along his biceps. You followed him into the bathroom as he went through gauze and towels to clean up the blood.

Then he moved onto the burn on his shoulder, thankfully it wasn’t too bad, something easy to look after. Still had the villain biting into a towel to muffle his screams. His other shoulder had the same branded handprint of his bully though it had been done in their middle school years. There were more on his torso from early elementary up to the start of high school.

“Did they hurt you a lot?” You asked out of the blue, Izuku sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, a lot of people used to hurt me a lot.” “Like how mommy and daddy hurt me?” Then it truly hit Izuku why he was so protective of you, why he was so drawn to keep you safe. Sure he would never hurt an innocent child, but he was going above and beyond what he would do for just anyone hell even himself! It was because you reminded him of himself. Your circumstances weren’t carbon copies but they were similar enough for his mind to want to do any and everything it could….He wanted to give you the justice no one would have ever given him.

“Yeah…just like them, but…My mom was nice, a little too nice but, she loved me….Everyone else, not so much.” He replied as he washed Katsuki’s blood from his mouth.

“What was your mommy like?” “My mom? She was kind the kindest woman I’ve ever met, she would give the world to anyone. She was-she was the best, he may not have been able to keep people from hurting me but. She kept me going.” A small shaky smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Just thinking about her was bittersweet. He remembered the nights she would hold him in her arms, consoling him the best he could after she’d find him a mess on the floor in tears. How she would still praise him for his efforts in anything he did, and how she said.

“I don’t care what your quirk is, or how you have to handle it. I don’t care if you become a hero or not, or how old you get. Just promise me, you will not lose yourself.” It took a long time for Izuku to understand what she meant by that but, looking into your big eyes that looked up at him in admiration, he could say he hadn’t lost himself.

Once he had gotten himself all fixed up and popped in an Advil, he changed into comfortable clothes and crawled back into bed with you. You needed sleep and so did he. When he laid down you snuggled up to him again as usual but this time said something that made his heart melt.

“You’re really brave, Dadda, but I’ll still protect you.”

(change in pov)

“Yo Katsuki, you alright?” “Yeah, I’m fucking fine, round face, why you askin’?” “Because you’ve been real spacy all day, and don’t say ‘its nothing’ cause I can see it on your face. Something’s on your mind.” Ochako said as she plopped down on the couch beside him, Katsuki rolled his eyes and groaned. Head dropping into his hands with a look of frustration, he knew damn well Ochako wasn’t gonna let him off the hook.

“It about that person you saw last night?” “Yeah, it is.” “They an old friend of yours?” “I wouldn’t say, friend, at least not anymore.” There was a moment of silence before Katsuki sat up and looked around before he finally spoke up.

“When I was younger we used to be childhood friends but that quickly turned to shit when at first I was told he was quirkless, then we found out what his real quirk was. I didn’t handle either information very well, and I made it very clear….for years.” “What did you do to him?” Ochako asked tilting her head confusedly, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad.

“I bullied him -more like abused honestly- for years upon years, I’m talking late elementary all the way up till the start of high school. I don’t even know why I did it, but it was a lot. He even attempted to kill himself because of it….That didn’t stop me though. I won’t give you too many details but quirk usage was my main way of doing it.” The brunette’s eyes widened when she put two and two together, she knew Katsuki’s quirk could hurt someone seriously, and the fact it was regularly used to hurt someone made her blood turn cold. She imagined what sort of damage he had left and the picture wasn’t pretty.

“And believe me that shit haunts me now, as I got older I’ve grown to realize the shit I did was horrible but. I never got the chance to apologize. He stopped coming around during my first year of high school, I hadn’t seen him since. Then there was last night. I know it was him, I know those green eyes and freckles anywhere.” He picked at the bandages wrapped around his arm, his face scrunched at the sour memories and pain in his wrist.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him again, I really didn’t.” His voice trailed off, his eyes clouded by sadness.

[cosmo-production]

This could work either way, with ribbon having pstd because void's existence implied there still might be a way for dark matter to come back meanwhile kirby just like "bet I can shove a whole plate of brownies in mouth! Are you watching!? I'm doing it"

If you're adding kiribbon into mix adding the comedic timing of Kirby explaing how he and the poele who almost destroy ripple star are related (VERY FAR in the family tree but still related) only for ribbon to look him dead in the eyes and say

" still would tho"

post-ksa kirby is stressed out bc What if my friends see me differently now bc i’m an incarnation of void. after all the horrible things that dark matter did to them. would they ever be able to look at me the same way again :( and ribbon is like Hey do you want to see me do a kickflip off the sacred crystal. cmon come watch me. are you watching

[rxtchetprime]

i think the kids have definately witnessed one of the bots panicking or something

tw: depictions of panic attacks, pstd/trauma, implied drug use/withdrawal (synth-en), slight self harm

especially optimus and ratchet during the orion pax arc or during stronger faster.

specifically, ratchet during orion pax arc, and probably after stronger faster. optimus after orion pax.

hell, even arcee when arachnid shows up, starscreams entire vendetta with megatron, breakdown and MECH, bee and megatron, and im sure theres multiple others.

kicking my feet rn <- loves to torture his favs

when they see arcee, they try to calm her down and reassure her. they know how difficult it would be to face your enemy head on. jack stands near her, its just them now. she's on one knee, and he's rubbing her kneeplate comfortingly. he has one of her servos placed snugly on his chest. jack guides her through getting her vents straightened out. it takes a while, but it's only them now. arcee knows they're safe. they can take as long as they need.

bulkhead is a tricky one, but also a bit easier to handle than the others. miko sees him tapping his digits quickly and erratically on a nearby surface. his eyes are darting around, hes jumpier than usual. the only one who can get him out of this is usually wheeljack. miko finds him, tells him bulk's condition, and off he goes. he places a servo on bulkheads rapid digits, he asks him if he wants to go out for some air. bulkhead is larger than the other bots, but claustrophobic nontheless, especially after being trapped in a cave, the only one able to hold the roof from collasping. so the two go out, bulkhead quickly returns to normal, they stay there for a while, lobbing or talking.

bee starts to rub at the spot where his voicebox once resided. his optics become just a bit dimmer and his doorwings droop. tears start to well up in his eyes. at this point, raf notices, because as bee starts to cry from the stress and memories, his noises that are akin to sniffles and hiccups come through glitchy and garbled. he's holding his helm and crying now. raf tries to comfort him, but isnt sure what to do. hes scared for his guardian and wants to get him help. so raf turns to ratchet, and if not him, then whoever else is around at the time. if its arcee or bulk, they go and get ratchet. if ratchet isnt there, they get optimus.

if its ratchet, he'll gently push his field into bee's with comfort and support. he eventually either moves them both to a quiet area, or everyone has cleared out at this point. ratchet slowly moves his hands up to bee's servos which are gripping at his helm. ratchet makes sure to keep his arms and servos in bees line of sight. he pry's his servos from his head and starts to affectionately stroke the scouts helm. bee eventually gives in and melts into the touch. now ratchet isn't a touchy mech, but when it comes to bee, he lets him sink into his chassis and just hold on to him. he eventually tires himself out, the pain in his throat too much to bare, and slips into recharge. ratchet carries bee into the medbay and lays him on a berth and stays nearby. when bee wakes up, he feels much better. he knows ratchet will never let megatron hurt him like that again.

everyone knows ratchet and optimus are the oldest of the team, but that doesn't mean that they don't have their memories, insecurities and moments. granted they're much rarer than the others, but equally important. the others know that if one of them are panicking, something's really wrong.

it started shortly after ratchet had stopped using synth-en. he was sitting at the console of the base, typing away. he watched as the words appeared on the screen, slowly, they started to turn to gibberish as he started to tap the wrong keys of the keyboard. ratchet looked down to see his servos shaking. his optics widened and his venting hitched. he brought his digits up to his faceplace to inspect them. they continued to tremble in front of him, his venting picking up quickly, before he knew it he was locked in place. he was just standing there, trying to get a hold of his shaking and venting. ratchet looks around sporadically, looking for the only thing that he thinks can ground him in that moment, synth-en. he feels himself spiraling, he feels the want for it, and he knows he needs to stop but he can't bring himself to.

after a few moments, he feels a servo on his shoulder, then that deep voice in his audial, "ratchet."

then all in one moment, everything seems right again. shuddering his vents, ratchet turns around, trying to get air into his system. optimus and ratchet make eye contact briefly, before optimus just smiles slightly, before whispering, "i'm proud of you, you've gone so far from when it first happened. you're better off without it." and then ratchet nods, a few tears rolling down his face, and optimus just lets him stand there for as long as he needs. he knows ratchet doesn't like others seeing him like this, and as a gentle reminder, optimus slides his servo to cup ratchet's cheek before walking off somewhere in the general area. somewhere that ratchet can see him, can hear him, can simply just feel his presence. that calms him down, just, someone being around him. he realizes he doesn't need the synth-en to be helpful to the team, so he starts to pick up on his work again, this time with steadier servos.

optimus, unlike the others, is a different story.

he'd just gotten back from being on the nemesis as orion pax. they had the data of some of the iacon relics, but now came the decoding part. for the next while, optimus would spend his free time decoding whatever he could of the texts. he squinted at the screen in front of him, this all seemed so familiar, but he couldn't put a digit to it. it wasn't until a few moments later that it dawned on him. he'd done this before, aboard the nemesis, for megatron. thats when he stills, his venting picking up from 0 to 100. ratchet is working beside him, and the typing is too loud. the bots are playing with their charges, and he can hear every creak of their armor, every step of the kid's shoes. ratchet looks over as soon as he hears optimus lift his servos off the keyboard, "optimus?" that's when optimus whips his helm around, its all too quiet all of a sudden. he needs out.

optimus can hear his own vents picking up, and he watches ratchet's face turn from concerned to downright worry. optimus crosses his arms over his chassis and quickly walks down the hall. the others just stare in the direction that their commander walked off to. they never see him like this. never not a pillar for them. ratchet takes initiative immediately and tells the others, "don't worry and don't follow me. it'll set him off more, just stay put and keep quiet." the kids and bots stare at him for a moment before nodding and exchanging worried glances before ratchet quickly, and rather quietly, jogged off down the hall to optimus.

ratchet can hear harsh vents behind a closet door as he passes. he stops, and knocks his digits on the large door. "optimus?" the only response he gets is incoherent and glitchy cybertronian. ratchet slowly turns the doorknob, letting the other know that he's coming in. ratchet sticks his helm in, spotting optimus in a corner of the closet, his knees up to his chassis. his faceplate was activated and his servos were gripping and scratching at the metal. ratchet quickly walked into the closet, closing the door softly behind the pair. optimus jumped slightly at the small noise, tears starting to stream down his face. ratchet got down on his knees in front of the prime, whispering in cybertronian to him, "hey, hey, hey... optimus. optimus, can you look at me?" ratchet would take optimus' servos into his and slowly separate them from the faceplace. "optimus, if you want to vent better you need to deactivate the mask." optimus stared at ratchet in horror, his vents picking up a little bit faster. quickly, ratchet held optimus' servos to his own chassis, letting the leader feel his chassis rise and fall as air made it's way in and out of his system. "just shutter your optics, i'm not leaving you. you're okay, just vent." he watched as optimus closed his eyes and started to take control of his systems and vents. after a while, he was breathing normally and his faceplace quietly shuttered back off of his face. ratchet smiled, the two would sit there in silence for a while, just listening to the muffled sounds of the base around them.

the kids know that their bots have hard times and they want to help them. they try in the best ways that they can, but sometimes, their bots need another bot to help them.

[stranger-marauders]

repaired

sequel to fractured

pairing: steve harrington x hopper!oc

summary: Kate Hopper's life had finally returned to normal, and this time, she was sure of it. With the summer after her senior year in session, she'd soon be leaving the horrors of Hawkins behind, returning to New York City in the fall. Kate only tries to live in the moment as Steve, Hopper, and El prepare for her to leave. With the underlying fears of the past still lingering behind her, new ones form when a certain band kid becomes co-workers with her boyfriend. When a particular Soviet transmission is received around Independence Day, Kate realizes that the past isn't that far behind her, and only hopes that this time, they can all make it out alive.

warnings: smut, making out, check individual chapters for smut stuff okay kiddos, language, canon-typical violence, canon-typical injury, previous character death, canonical character death, major character death, parental loss, trauma, survivor's guilt, pstd symptoms, mentioned parental issues, alcohol use, implied drug use, allusions to abuse, hurt/comfort, hey at least they're together now

word count: 55.9k

masterlist

PART ONE: June 28th, 1985 one: star court mall two: summer lovin'

PART TWO: June 29th, 1985 three: the episode four: three bucks an hour with no future five: family dinner

PART THREE: June 30th, 1985 six: hopper, henderson, and harrington seven: translation nation

PART FOUR: July 1st, 1985 eight: russian-hunting nine: in the air tonight

PART FIVE: July 2nd, 1985 ten: the plan eleven: operation child endangerment

PART SIX: July 3rd, 1985 twelve: dropped halfway to hell thirteen: red dawn fourteen: run for your life

PART SEVEN: July 4th, 1985 fifteen: russian interrogation sixteen: the rescue seventeen: she's got you eighteen: reunited

PART EIGHT: July 4th, 1985 nineteen: the todd father twenty: scoops troop twenty-one: the battle of starcourt mall

EPILOGUE: August 24th, 1985 twenty-two: leaving home

shattered

[lonesome--hunter]

Can we see some future/post captivity Ezra if you‘re up for it pls? 🥺👉👈 That man needs some comf and fluff!

Ok idk how fluffy this came out but here ya go lol. This takes place during Ezra's recovery in the future.

CW: nightmares, pstd, implied noncon, implied lady whump

Ezra had a love/hate relationship with rainy days.

When he could stay swaddled in blankets and listen to the rainfall with no obligations or things to do, he loved them. Bonus points if Charlie’s day off matched up with his and they could laze about together, forgetting their cares and just relax in the calmness stormy days brought.

Today was an unadulterated hate.

The cold made everything hurt. Old injuries ache down the bones, especially his legs that were never given proper time to heal correctly. Getting out of bed took him nearly a half hour, his joints and bones cracking so loud he worried it would wake Charlie. It always took her so long to fall asleep every night, she’d stay awake dreading the frequent nightmares that came with slumber. Ezra would often have to wake her in the night to pull her out of ones that were so bad she'd scream and cry.

He was able to get out of bed without waking her and creep into the kitchen to put the cheap coffee pot they found at a 'pay what you want' garage sale on so it would be ready for him when he got out of the shower.

It all went south as soon as he lathered his body and got lost in a flashback to that house, that dreadful house. His legs gave out beneath him, making him crash down hard onto the shower tiles knees first. He kept himself from slipping further by grabbing the metal safety bar on the side but the pain shooting throughout his body from the impact made him double over on his hands and knees.

When Charlie got to him he was curled up in the corner of the wall in shower, letting the water hide the tears of frustration falling down his face.

She took off her clothes and got in behind him with the shower head, carefully rinsing him off while she let him cry. He stopped as soon as Charlie began to wash his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp as she lathers it up. They stay like that until Ezra's ready. Charlie helped him out and dried him off with the blue towel that was still warm from the dryer, he apologized when he had to lean on her for support.

Charlie calls them both out of work. Griff understood what it meant for Ezra to call out so he wasn't upset even though he was most certainly going to be short handed that day. She pushed him back in bed and tucked it in all around him before she squeezed in next to him, the soft cotton of her night gown cooling his skin that was still too hot from the shower.

They held each other while listening to the thunderstorm roll in, the hard rain pelting the skylight in their bathroom.

"I saw him again. Felt him right there with me. Breathing down my neck. Touching me. He was right there." Ezra felt Charlie tighten her embrace as he stared at the rain falling down the windowpane, she trailed light kisses down his neck into the crook.

“It’s just us here, me and you. He’ll never hurt us again.” Ezra’s breath hitched like the dam was about to break but he held them back for Charlie’s sake. He didn’t want to set her off too. These events of theirs tended to come in pairs. The two of them trading off bad days until they get a few weeks of calm again.

They put on a movie for background noise, Wayne’s World, something they’d both seen many times as they cycled through the same five comfort films over and over. They ordered in, neither felt up to cooking and the weather was too nasty to trek in to pick something up.

Far too soon night fell and it was time for bed. Ezra and Charlie spent the night talking about anything they could, coherent thoughts slipping into ramblings, anything to fill the looming silence, anything to stay awake and avoid the bad things that hid behind their eyes in dreams.

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