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mimi-noelle · 8 months

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I’m so confused. I’ve seen multiple people talk about how they want Ahsoka to break. To be bitter and angry and to lash out at others. And I don’t understand why.

(tw: discussion of trauma and mental breakdowns)

Like, she clearly has her trauma. She’s been through some incredibly horrible situations. But like, that doesn’t mean she has to be an asshole. Like some people might deal with trauma by lashing out at others and becoming bitter and angry. But that’s not the only way to deal.

Ahsoka appears to have settled into bottling things up. It lets her stay calmer. It feels safer. If she doesn’t give into her feelings then she can’t be controlled by them. That’s how she copes.

As someone who copes similarly, I feel like it is highly unlikely that she is going to give in to bitterness and anger, that she would lash out, that she would act in a way that has her losing control of her emotions. That’s what she is actively trying to avoid.

Also, everyone has a different breaking point. What it takes for someone to break varies wildly from person to person. It also depends on what “breaking” means in the context of the situation. And how a person responds to the break is different for everyone.

Considering what Ahsoka has already been through, how much she has dealt with, how much trauma she has had to learn to cope with, I feel like it would take something of incredible magnitude to break her. And if that were to happen, I suspect she would shut down and shut everyone out.

It is in her nature and it is her goal to do what is right, to be helpful to others or to a cause, to fight for the things that are worth fighting for. That will not change if she breaks. That will still be a part of her. Even in a deep moment of darkness, who she is would not change. She would still have those values. She would want to minimize the hurt of those around her and I bet that she would shut everyone out to accomplish that.

Maybe I’m rambling. But I don’t like the idea that because you have been through trauma and you have not dealt with the full extent of that trauma, that you will act like an asshole to everyone around you because of it. It doesn’t work like that. You can be traumatized and still be kind and compassionate and caring towards others.

Ahsoka will always try her best, even in her darkest moments.

#I don’t like the assumptions being made about trauma survivors #and I felt inclined to talk about it #because it really bothers me #ahsoka tano #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #ahsoka #star wars #sw meta #ahsoka meta #character analysis #tw: trauma #cw: trauma #tw: mental breakdown #cw: mental breakdown #mimi talks #what a risk to talk about feelings in star wars

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shipsgaysfordays · 1 year

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we are the champ--no, no we are not

wrote this fic concept yesterday, and expanded it after getting a reaction from a few people. so it’s not the longest fic, but it’s a bit longer than this

gonna tag @siriusblackkinniefr since he asked me to, i hope you enjoy <3

also, i made the title like that because i think it’s funny. and sirius has stolen all the pronouns and will be flaunting them because genderfluid sirius is special to me

Sirius is sitting on Remus’ couch as the men stare at one another. Remus is even more of a giant than he normally appears since Sirius is sitting while Remus is standing. Remus is quite literally looking down on her.

Things had changed and that was unavoidable to acknowledge by this point, but these old fools were damn persistent in trying not to see reality, so they actually managed pretty well to pretend things were fine while they were actually far from it. A conclusion that Remus had come to a long time ago was that delusion wasn’t always a bad thing, so what if he’s being delusional trying to bring back the past? What’s so great about the present?

Sirius stares, eyes glazed over. A long time ago he had looked to Remus and acknowledged him as being there in this moment, existing. Soon after they seemed to forget, finding much more interest in the texture of the walls, the chipped paint and dust. Once upon a time everything had been so new. She had been so new, now it…now….they don’t like to think of now.

“Padfoot, Padfoot” Remus says, if they were still in school it would have annoyed him to say his name this much, Sirius always finds it strange this way he shields Sirius from his anger now. It doesn’t make sense for him to. Not after.

Sirius blinks hard, twitching their face just a bit, and then looking over to Remus, “Yes?”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Moony, do you need to ask?”

“Yes, sometimes, yes.”

“Oh…well, yes you can sit with me.”

Remus started walking over, slowly as though he were approaching a wild animal, and suddenly stopped, “Would you want to listen to music?”

Sirius hadn’t really thought about it, when they were kids they loved listening to music together, things wouldn’t be any different now. “Of course,” he gave a small smile.

Remus grinned, the first real grin he had seen in so long, Sirius would do anything to keep things like that, to make him happy again, to keep him happy. But Sirius hadn’t been thinking about it.

Hands flipped through a stack of records, until picking up a very well loved Queen album, News of the World. On the front cover: a tin man looking to the sky, almost praying, as blood drips down his fingers and he holds two men with black hair.

He slips the large black disk out and onto the record player, skipping over to what used to be Sirius’ favorite song. What Remus had thought would be a safe song, without truly thinking about it.

Remus puts the needle down and falls back onto the couch next to his questionably former lover.

“I’ve paid my dues, time after time.”

Remus relaxes to the smooth voice of Freddie Mercury, the back of his mind thinking about the next line, a small voice in his head of worry.

“I’ve served my sentence, but committed no crime.”

“Turn it off,” Sirius mutters, knees in front of her and hands over his ears.

Remus looks over and jumps up, something not very good for his knees and body pains in general. In a few steps, he’s in front of the record player and stopping it, looking for something else. Something that can make Sirius happy again.

“Turn it off,” Sirius continues, voice growing louder and louder, more commanding yet imbued with pain. “Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off!” They shake and scream.

So Remus does, stopping the search for any new music, putting away the record, and just staring. Back at square one. Worse than square one. He created this pain for Sirius, this unnecessary pain.

Taking a deep breath, Remus went back to the couch, still leaving space between him and Sirius. The man placed a hand out, offering something, some small piece of comfort.

“I’m so sorry Padfoot, I’m so sorry,” he spoke, despite knowing Sirius probably didn’t hear him. Hands still covering their ears, still muttering.

Remus moved his hand, hovering it above Sirius’ back, questioning if this may also do more harm than good. In the end they’re sitting together, Remus rubbing circles into Sirius’ back. Saying that stupid, common lie, “Everything’s gonna be okay, everything will be alright, I’m here.”

Sirius looks up for the first time in ages.

“I’m here, Padfoot.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #Wolfstar fanfiction #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #remus and sirius #remus loves sirius #Remus Lupin #RemusLupin #Sirius Black #siriusblack #genderfluid sirius black #mentally ill sirius #cw: mental illness #cw: mental breakdown

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chaikachi · 1 year

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there's a million ways to spill blood on the court...

#greenlight volume 10 #so ruby can have a break that isn't of the mental breakdown variety #rwby #ruby rose #fanart #fan art #chaikachi #cw: blood #cw: death #oscar pine #penny polendina #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #pyrrha nikos #qrow branwen #rwby little

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tub3rculosis · 5 months

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blah blah blah merry almost christmas

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 10 months

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Regression- a DCA!Serial Killer AU Drabble

just a slice of something. May or may not become canon.

context: Moon is out shopping to restock for babysitting, Detective is about to play a card game with Sun in his apartment. Secret is also out-

cw: panic attack, breakdown, age regression

Sun hurries over with a deck in his hands, rattling it in its box. The deck was, of course, themed around cats. After scooting the coffee table aside you both sit on the living room rug. You cross your legs while Sun sits on his knees.

"So! What game do you fancy?" Sun asks, tapping the deck in his hand. "Blackjack? Poker?"

You lean back on your hands. "Not much experience with those."

"No? You have an excellent poker face for it." Sun lightly teases as he starts to open the box. You laugh.

"Adult games are boring. Besides, I can play a mean game of Go Fish."

"Go Fish it is, then!"

Sun shakes the box and the deck lands in his hands. He shuffles it briefly in a fluid motion then begins to cut. First you, then himself. As he reaches to give you your fourth card, it slips from his fingers and lands on the floor, exposing the suit. His hand twitches.

"Ah..."

You look to the flipped card, then to Sun, who had gone still, his hand still stretched out. His eyes locked on the card. You knit a brow. "Sun? What's up?"

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in as he blinks and looks to you. He stretches a smile across his face plate. "Ah, it's nothing. Don't wor--"

The remaining deck in his hand suddenly folds and spills onto the floor, covering both his and your stack. Sun makes another noise, this time of what you hear as frustration. You think nothing of it.

"Hey it's okay," you say and straighten. You reach to the fallen cards. "Here, I can--"

"I can do it."

Before you can, Sun's hands cover the cards and he tries pulling them all back towards his spot. You pull your hand back and watch him almost scramble to collect the cards that keep slipping through his fingers. "I can do it, it's fine, I can do it..." he keeps muttering.

The cards now lay messily on the floor in front of him, some of them slightly crinkled and bent from his eagerness to collect them. You watch a hand pick up the first card that had initially fallen, and it trembles between his fingers.

Wait...no, his whole hand is shaking.

You look to him, about to ask if he was alright, when you notice his expression had changed, ready to crumple as he glared tearfully at the card like it was at fault. His shoulders quiver, too.

"Sun?" you ask, now concerned. "Sun, what's wrong?" He doesn't answer, the only reply given is a hiss of air meant to mimic a hitch of breath. You grow more and more worried. What could've set him off? "Maybe we shouldn't play right now--"

"No!"

You jump at the brief shout.

"I-I can play! I-I can..." The card falls to the floor again. He holds his hands out in front of him, shaking and tense. The oil tears fall one by one. "I can do it...! I know I can, I..." He tries scrubbing them away, not bothering if it stained the sleeves of his sweater, but more only appear. His rays rattle and jut in and out.

"I know how to run a stupid library...I-I know how to take care of children...I know how to kill people, so I know how to cut a stupid deck..."

You blink as your worry continues to rise. Where was this coming from? Did someone say something to him?

You inch towards him, slowly reaching a hand towards him. "H-Hey, it's okay, Sun. I know you do. What's wrong, bud? Talk to me, I'm worried."

"I-I'm fine! I'm fine...I-I...c-can..."

Sun's words falter, and he wails. Pitching his head back, his eyes screw shut, sending more oily tears running down his face plate. His rays retract completely, and for a moment with the loud cry his mouth fully opens. He then hunches forward, pressing his face into the floor, arms covering his head. You're bewildered by this, but are far more concerned for your friend.

"Sun!" You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and shake him. You raise your voice in hopes of speaking over his crying. "It's alright! Hey! What's going on? Did something happen at work today?"

You somehow manage to get him to sit up, though he still hunches forward. His face is a mess from the oil, streaming down his cheek and dripping off the tip of his nose. There is a stain on the rug, but that isn't your main focus. Though his mouth had closed again he continues crying. He scrubs at his face with the heels of his palm, and his entire body jolts each time he takes simulated hitch of breath. They sound remarkably like harsh hiccups. Any words he may have spoken come out completely incomprehensible.

Almost like babbling...

The door swings open and you jump, looking up. You're relieved to see Moon standing in the doorway, a spooked and concerned look on his face plate. He drops the shopping bags and makes a b-line for you both, holding onto Sun, who almost immediately latches onto him for dear life. You begin to explain what happened. Moon sighs with a nod, almost like he understood things clearer. He cradles his brother like a mother would a frightened child.

"Give us a moment, please," he requests. "Just in the next room."

You're confused, but you nod and stand up, walking into another room of the apartment to give them space. From a distance, you can hear Moon speak soothingly to Sun until his crying finally stops.

After a while, Moon's voice quietly calls for you, telling you it's alright to come back. You return to the living room and find Moon hunched over the oil stain on the rug, scrubbing it clean. The card deck has been put away and sits on the coffee table. Curled up on the couch you find Sun, a blanket dotted with circus elephants draped over him. A stuffed bear is tucked in his arms. His face is clean, and he appears to be sleeping. One hand presses against his mouth as if he's about to suck his thumb.

Before you can ask what happened, Moon rises to a stand. The stain is gone. He sighs softly, then looks to you. Then to the grocery bags behind you. You look, too. "Help with those," he says in a hushed voice, or more hushed than usual. "I'll explain then."

You nod and the two of you get to work. Carrying the bags to the kitchen, you pull the items out and follow Moon's instructions on where things go. He comments how Sun likes things organized a certain way, how "everything has its place". You find humor in it for a brief second.

"Is he okay?" you ask while putting away juice boxes.

"He's alright," Moon answers, closing a cabinet after stocking it with wipes. He holds onto the cabinet knobs for a moment before sighing and letting them go.

"You must be confused," he says.

"I'm more concerned than anything," you reply.

"Sunny didn't tell you about the day he had, did he?"

"Obviously not." You fold your arms loosely over your chest, glancing to the couch where Sun slept. "He told you, though?"

"He tells me everything," Moon states while digging through another bag. He pulls out a carton of almond milk and stows it into the fridge. He feels your eyes on him as you wait for an explanation. "Sunny had a run-in with a rather...rude visitor at the library today."

"A Karen?"

"Cranked up to 11." You exhale with a shake of your head and wait for him to continue. "Visitor in town, staying for a few weeks. She wanted a certain book, but it was already checked out by someone else. She was adamant there was another copy, said the library's site told her so. Sunny tried to de-escalate things, like he normally does, all while she tears into him. And in front of other children, too. Said how could a robot be terrible at this kind of job."

"She said that?"

Moon nods.

A heat swells in your chest as your eyes fall back on the couch. Thinking back, you recall the things Sun had said before his fit began. Things have been rocky for all three of you lately. This lady was a visitor. She doesn't know this town's secret...

"That explains things, then."

"That isn't all."

You look to Moon, brows knit. "There's more?"

"You saw how he is now, yes? Different compared to how he was before?"

"What are you saying?"

Moon sighs, tossing the empty bags into the recycling bin. "Sometimes," he begins, "when Sunny has a really bad day, it gets to him. The stress can be too much. So, to help with the stress, he..." he pauses, as if thinking of the proper word before finally finding it, "regresses."

"...Regresses?" you parrot back.

Moon nods. He sees your confusion and sighs again, arms folded over his chest, though not in aggravation. "His mind reverts to that of a child. Not like that of a Little from someone with dissociative identity disorder. He is still Sunny. Just...smaller, mentally."

Your brows knit further as you try to follow along with his explanation. You're not sure if this is something you have ever experienced, either personally or from another person, but to see something like this in an animatronic...

"So...to deal with stress..." you slowly explain, going at the pace of your thought process, "he mentally reverts to a child-like state."

"Bingo was his name-o."

You nod, relieved to have that confirmed. You feel a pang in your heart. Sun had tried to hold out, not wanting what happened to ruin your game or for you to worry, right until that fumble with the card became the straw to break the camel's back. Even as he fell apart, he still put you first.

"How long does it last?"

"Varies," Moon says. "Usually, it passes once he's had a nap. Usually." By the brief change in tone, you guess that anything further was worth another separate discussion. "You don't need to worry. He will be fine."

You nod again, then lower your head as you think further on the subject. After a moment, you look back up at Moon.

"Do you...regress, too?" you ask.

Moon doesn't reply, but the expression on his face gives you the answer you seek. Air hisses as he sighs and walks back over to the couch. He kneels in front of Sun's head. You can't see it, but he reaches and pets his brother's head. "You are welcome to stay," he tells you, "or you can go. I understand if this frightens you."

You think for a moment, then approach the couch as well. You peer over the back and down at Sun's sleeping form. He looks so small, curled up. You hesitate to call it cute, giving what drove him to this state in the first place. Carefully, you reach down and touch his cheek. It twitches, but he doesn't stir.

"I'll...hang around a bit," you finally answer. You walk around the couch and crouch next to Moon. "He'll probably ask for me when he wakes up. May as well be here for it. And you can explain to me more about the whole...regression thing."

Moon glances your way and smiles warmly, almost in wordless thanks.

#dca!serial killer au #sk sun #sk moon #serial killer duo #detective y/n #drabble #fnaf dca au #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare au #cw panic attack #cw mental breakdown #cw age regression #detective knows the truth in this one #but that's not the focus #karens #protective moon #caretaker moon #regressed sk!sun #hurt/comfort

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cry-ptidd · 6 months

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Expression study ft Laura and Alucard who look just about fucking miserable

#hellsing #alucard #hellsing oc #my oc #laura chastel #my art #angst? on MY tumblr? it’s more likely than you think #they’re having the time of their life.#laura wouldn’t actually be very emotional at all in a canon setting #(if we don’t count anger and lust for battle)#but she’s still fucked up. like REALKY fucked up #and I kinda see her and alu getting along bc they 1) are both ancient monsters that understand each other’s struggles #2) have sa trauma #3) have no fucking clue how to Deal with it in a healthy manner #who needs therapy when you have Shooting things and Eating people #cw blood #cw nonsexual nudity #cw mental breakdown #cw sh

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ghastlybats · 4 months

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Anatomy of a Ghost

Steddie, Steve Harrington POV, angst, not actually that steddie-focused but its there

(this is sort of angst with ambiguous ending, I just have a lot of thoughts about the way people treat Steve in regards to Barb's death, and the possibilities of Steves own misconceptions about it and his lack of support system. Honestly I could write an essay about this.)

wc: 1,859

cw/warnings: themes of survivor's guilt, some of this could be dissociation idk

summary: there's a dead girl standing at the edge of Steve's pool, and he's convinced that his house is being sucked into the water. he hasn't slept in a while.

There’s a dead girl outside, and the house is being sucked into the pool.

Every night, Steve sat on the floor in front of the sliding glass doors and stared at it, watched the pool get closer and bigger. He didn’t need his bat, Barb never moved. She always stood in the exact same spot, right there in front of him on the other side of the eerie blue water. Her clothes were always dripping. He would watch the puddle below her grow with each droplet.

When it all started, he might have shrugged it off. Steve used to think he was a reasonable, logical person. Maybe not smart, but he was pretty sure, once, that his house could not possibly be sucked into his pool. The pool was too small to hold the whole house.

Actually, though, there wasn’t much in a house. Mostly drywall and spongy insulation. Some wood, some granite countertops. Metal, glass. Shag carpet and kitchen tile. Maybe his whole house could fit into the pool after all, once it had collapsed and broken. And as he watched the pool, night after night, the truth became undeniable; like a black hole, the pool was pulling him into it.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that the moment he stepped out into the yard, he would be dragged under the water. So instead, he kept the doors closed and locked and he sat on the Persian rug, picking at the fibers and staring out at the pool, knowing that there would come a day that it devoured him.

Barb knew it too. She stood at the edge of the water and looked down at him. Even when he tried to talk to her, he could find no words, and so he never did. It seemed like she was alright with that arrangement, because she never tried to speak either. She wasn’t the one making his house collapse into the pool. She was just a bystander, the same as Steve. Sometimes, he thought she might be looking at him in pity.

That night, it was storming. The pool was closer than ever before. It was two forty-seven in the morning, but Steve didn’t know that. Upstairs, his walkie-talkie has been going off constantly for the past three hours, but he didn’t know that either. The rain and the crash of thunder masked the sounds of the house. He couldn’t hear each droplet of water that rolled off of Barb’s hands like he usually could. He didn’t hear the knocking on his door, or the shouts of his name. He did not hear the turning of the lock.

That night, the edge of the pool was mere inches away from the doors. Steve was wondering what it would feel like to drown. He had actually considered asking Barb about it. He hadn’t bothered, though, had figured she wouldn’t hear him over the sounds of the rain.

There was a flash of lightning. Silence for several seconds before the roll of thunder.

“Steve?” Said a voice from behind him.

Steve flinched violently. For the first time in maybe weeks, in the dead of night, he pulled his eyes away from the pool to look at Eddie.

“What are you doing, man? Are you okay?” Eddie stood in the doorway to the living room, hair damp and face pale in the lightning that flashed again from outside. That split second of light was enough to see the concern on his face.

“I’m keeping an eye on things,” Steve told him. Thunder. Eddie stepped farther into the room, until he stood just at the edge of that glowing rectangle of light seeping in through the windows.

“Don’t want to disturb her, so I leave my walkie upstairs.” Steve turned his gaze back to the edge of the pool. Eddie followed suit.

“Disturb who, Steve?” He asked.

“Barb. You’ll see her when the lightning strikes again, she’s kind of hard to make out in the dark,” Steve explained, matter-of-factly.

The lightning came again.

“Steve, I… I don't see her. I don't think…” Eddie said quietly. The thunder rumbled.

“Just wait. Maybe you missed her.”

Eddie didn’t speak. Steve didn’t look at him. The pool was still only inches away.

“Have you been doing this every night?”

Steve began picking at the rug again. “The house is getting sucked into the pool,” he explained.

Eddie said nothing.

“It’s not her fault, she’s not the one doing it. The pool gets closer every night. Its only a few inches away now.”

“Steve, it's… it's the same as it always was.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “No. It’s— I can see it getting closer,” he insisted.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you slept?”

Steve didn’t have an answer for that. Days kind of started blurring together, he hadn’t kept count of nights.

“If the house is collapsing into the pool, then we need to get you out, okay? Let’s get you some clothes and a toothbrush and you can come stay with me for a while, the van’s outside and it should even still be warm,” Eddie murmured, and put a gentle hand right between Steve’s shoulder blades.

“I can’t leave her this time,” Steve said.

“Do you think she wants you to die?”

Steve stared out at the girl across the pool.

“I don’t know. I think that if I was her, I would.”

Lightning.

“Why?”

Thunder, loud enough now to shake the fine China in the cupboard to their left.

“Because it's my fault she died. It’s my pool she died in.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t think it was, for what its worth. You couldn’t have known, Steve. Nancy brought her to your house, Nancy was the one to pick you over her. You had no connection to Barb, right? That’s what you told me,” Eddie said. He paused to gauge Steve’s reaction.

“It was my pool,” Steve said again.

“Jonathan was the last person to see her alive. Why shouldn’t he shoulder this guilt?”

Steve had nothing to say about that.

“I’m not blaming someone else in your place. All I’m saying, Steve, is that this burden never should have been yours. And you know very well how I feel about Nancy putting it onto you.” Eddie sighed, and stood. “I’m going to pack you a bag, alright? You’re going to sleep at my place tonight, and when you wake up, we’re going to figure out what to do next.”

Steve didn’t respond, again. He heard Eddie walk away, his Reeboks squeaking against the hardwood floors of the entryway, then the quiet thumping of footsteps as he climbed the stairs and headed into Steve’s room.

For the first time, Steve was having trouble making out the shape of Barb in the darkness. He stood and, holding on tightly to the doorframe, unlocked the glass door and pushed it open.

He wasn’t dragged immediately into the pool. He was careful, very careful, as he walked around the odd shape of it, to not slip on the narrow ledge. Only a few inches between the house and the pool. It felt like miles on the other side.

Now, he stood opposite to the house, between the pool and the woods, rain soaking his clothes and chilling his skin. It was darker there, he felt. He reached out into the darkness, and found nothing but rain.

Panicked, he stumbled forward and again, found nothing. He stood exactly where Barb would have been standing, should have been standing, and looked back to the house, and the open glass door, and the single lit window just above it where he saw Eddie rushing back and forth in his room. His hair was plastered to his forehead now, his hands hung limply at his sides and he felt the droplets running down his arms, drip-drip-dripping off his hands. The sound of it overpowered the rain and thunder. He hadn’t even noticed the lightning strike.

He felt stuck to that spot, staring in through the door at the spot he had occupied on the floor, god knows how many nights he spent there. He wondered if maybe, one of those nights, he should have offered to let Barb come inside.

Eddie was at his side again, Steve vaguely registered seeing him come back downstairs, watching the fear overtaking his face when he saw the open door, and then the way he hid it when his eyes fell on Steve outside. He was steering Steve back towards the house, and they weren’t being careful on the narrow ledge between the house and the pool that time but they made it inside nonetheless. There was a large duffel bag on the ground, stuffed full. Eddie closed and locked the sliding door again. The drip-drip-drip became muffled by the carpet, but he could still hear it.

There was a towel wrapped around him, gentle hands drying his hair and soaking as much water as possible out of his t-shirt, his pants, brushing the rivulets off his hands and feet. His skin stung with the removal of the constant chill, but he was handed clean, dry clothes right out of the duffle bag, and when he didn’t move to change, Eddie took care in removing his shirt and drying him off again, replacing it with the new one. Then pants and underwear, in a reversal of the way Steve had once looked after Eddie, in the weeks after his death and revival, and long hospital stay. There were no secrets between them, anymore, not really.

The dry clothes did nothing to soothe the sting, but Eddie wrapped a blanket around him, a fluffy throw from the couch, picked up the bag, and with a hand on the small of Steve’s back, walked them to the door. Steve turned back only once, and even in the bright flash of lightning, Barb was nowhere to be found. The pool was getting farther away again, but it might have just been a trick of the light.

The drive to Eddie’s wasn’t silent, but Steve didn’t remember Eddie ever keeping the volume of his radio so low. Whatever tape was in the deck was nothing more than a quiet hum over the rain and the rumble of the engine.

Then they were there, and Eddie was leading him inside with that hand on his back again, and he was being made to lay down on Eddie’s bed, and he tried to ask where Eddie was going to sleep, but he just got a shake of the head and a murmur of assurance, that Eddie would be alright.

For the first time in what must have been a very long time, Steve began to feel sleepy. Eddie was talking quietly, none of the words meant much of anything, but his voice rumbled like the thunder, now far in the distance, and the rain battered the roof of the small bungalow which Wayne and Eddie called home, and the room smelled like smoke and the sheets like sweat. Steve didn’t dream at all, but that blackness of sleep must have lasted forever.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #accidentally wrote a 2000 word fic in about an hour #something came over me and I had to write this #steve harrington whump #maybe?#im gonna be totally honest ive forgotten how to tag things #its been like 7 years since i last posted a fanfic anywhere #steve harrington and eddie munson #steve harrington angst #barbra holland #cw dissociation #cw survivors guilt #this is not an accurate depiction of a mental breakdown

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rubberlemon · 2 months

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"You once gifted me a rose, do you remember?" More of hanahaki au

#kamen rider geats #azuma michinaga #ukiyo ace #azuace #hanahaki au #lemonarte #Yeah that's Micchi with his short hair #he probably cut his hair in one of his mental breakdown #tw blood #cw blood

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disventurecamptakes · 2 months

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i don't understand why almost everyone on the magenta team treats fiore like dog shit. that is an EIGHT YEAR OLD who has probably had to take care of herself. i wouldn't be surprised if fiore eventually had a mental breakdown.

#disventure camp #disventure camp fiore #cw mental breakdown mention #cw child neglect mention

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metamatar · 3 months

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ofc its meaningful to advocate for rehabilitative justice bc of how awful modern carceral systems are but on a minor personal level my self loathing stems from the real and meaningful hurt i've caused people in my life and when i start thinking about how unforgivable i am there's obviously only one solution my mind can offer me.

#theres a big stone in my chest rn #misery posting #<- i think im about to have a mental breakdown this tag might get some use #cw: suicide

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bb-fennelposting · 4 months

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i know this is meant to be a funny shotpost blog but this small tidbit from Nightcloud's summary hits hard

#better bones au #speaking as a former victim who made peace w their abusers and bullies (family members)#like. ofc we are on better terms #but to this day #i'm still hurt #i still have breakdowns over things said and done to me #and that's ok #smth i appreciate about bb!au is how it handles those kinds of topics #instead of canon's “oh she deserved it for staying with him” victim blaming ass #because GOD FORBID their special little boy is bad in any way. no. it's nightcloud's fault lol #anyways srry for the rant #expect a few art shitposts in the future?#things r slow...... still busy w work and mental health... but im still around yall #cw abuse

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fenneky-fox · 2 months

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HELP FUCK IT HAPPENED I CANT SPEAK

MY VOICE

ITS

its… its gone. my human voice. i just. growl. and fucking. fennekin noises. pokespeech.

fuck fuck FUCK why couldn’t i be one of the ones that got both? why do i.. fucking…

that was the only good thing i ever had. a pretty voice. now i’m just.. nothing

#mental breakdown cw #excessive swearing

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 5 months

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[cws: starvation/food insecurity, fantasy racism, psychiatric abuse, ableism, and Upsetting Pictures.]

one thing that fucks me up immensely about pericles before and after the asylum is how fucking skinny he is.

like. as much as obviously the two designs are Very Inconsistent in general which annoys me, look at him pre-timeskip. look at how he's shaped.

his head and face are way smoother and rounder, both in front and back, and the space between his cheekbones and his eyebrow ridge is filled in; his body is rounder in general and his belly is noticeably between his thighs when he's standing up; he has kind of a chubby butt; his chin and neck are softer and wider around, which you can really see with the width of the scarf compared to his shoulders and the angle where it meets his head. it comes up in front of his face more because there's not as much of an angle with his chin to hold it down.

now. compare all those things to this.

christ.

and like, you could argue some of these design differences are tiny things to zero in on in a show that's as loose with its models as sdmi is. but present-day pericles' design is pretty obviously supposed to be unsettling because he's physically built to be a Cute Roumb Little Mascot Creature--so much so that the framework has managed to stick around a little in spite of everything--and has become gaunt and haggard anyway. and you could also argue that the body type changes are just thanks to aging twenty years (and i don't doubt that's contributed).

except. he spent those twenty years in an asylum where the other inmates we see look like this.

christ.

(fun little fact that @thecottageinthedark pointed out also: remember how he literally got caught at one point because he couldn't stop eating sunflower seeds, even during a heist? a high-fat, high-calorie snack for birds? you know, exactly the kind of thing a starving person who finally has proper access to food would be wolfing down?)

(yeah.)

did i mention that this happened in a (fantasy) racially segregated prison, which is technically an asylum so the inmates can be kept there indefinitely, because in an actual prison you're required to have a sentence? did i mention that none of the human characters we see in human prison look any less healthy during or afterward, and on top of that are allowed to move around and socialize? did i mention the absolutely horrific treatment of the asylum inmates is implied to be despite the fact that the (physically abusive!) guard is playing up how dangerous and malicious they are? (you know. except for pericles 🙃)

did i mention the man who got pericles imprisoned--who he had not only done nothing to beforehand, but had helped--says he was there to 'live out the rest of his miserable parrot life in a cage, where he belonged,' and not only do none of the characters we're supposed to side with have anything to say about that, but the audience is clearly supposed to agree with him too?

(did i mention said man--who was in on the crime, singular, that pericles went to prison for!--spends those twenty years living a life of luxury in power while abusing the child he kidnapped as a baby and held hostage his entire life, and when we see him in prison he is not only chilling out and helping the authorities but reading a newspaper?)

did i mention the part where by the time we meet pericles he hasn't spoken in years?

like. man the 'ooooo scary evil abused asylum crazies' trope is bad enough, even when they pretend to lampshade it for a minute before playing it straight; i don't know how they added in All That and made him emaciated and expected no one to find it heartbreaking or even sympathetic. i don't care how bad he was before the asylum (and dear god was he ever), that is horrifying and no one deserves it. god damn.

#sdmi #professor pericles #scooby doo: mystery incorporated #the worldbuilding re: the talking animals in this universe is already really fucked up and awful #but everything to do with the asylum is one of the biggest things for me that shoves it over the edge from #'this aspect of the show is really disasteful and uncomfortable and i Don't Like It'#to 'wow this is actually really fucking upsetting i am straight up having to skip past scenes and/or take breaks when a detail comes up'#anyway pericles is a colossal piece of shit and also incredibly fucking tragic and i need more content that acknowledges and goes into that #and also due to Recent and Ongoing Life Experiences i am especially pissed these days about #'character loses a ton of weight and looks Haggard compared to before; because of that and in general' being associated with Evil Scary #especially when it's done to them in some way as *punishment* for being Evil #same energy as how badly it fucked me up as a kid to grow up constantly seeing #'villain has a horrifying spiraling mental breakdown because they're Pathetic and Evil'#in every fucking piece of media i engaged with!#anyway lol #the crit files #SDMItag #cws in post

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