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miss-atena · 1 year

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Neurodivergent, traumas and of sorts headcanons for creepypasta

Why? cuz obviously a bunch of traumatized psychos who live in a manor together can't not be neurodivergent and/or mentally ill in some way.

part 1 of some. idk when i'll make more but i like these.

feat. Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu + Sully, Jane the Killer and Ticci Toby

TW: Trauma discussion, Child abuse, PTSD discussion.

Jeff the Killer

Jeff and Liu grew up in a heavily catholic family, so you can imagine for a very emo and punk kid like Jeff it was hard to deal with.

Jeff, in my au, has Bipolar disorder, beside anger issues, and due to his family (excluding Liu) belief it was "the devil doing this to their son", he is neglected any sort of mental help.

Due to this religious trauma of being dragged to churches and being treated with physical violence for his likings and attitude, Jeff never learned a good coping mechanism, and resorts to violence to relief himself from his negative emotions.

When he is in a specially depressive episode, he tends to isolate himself and do the bare minimum to be alive.

But on his maniac episodes, he tends to be extra aggressive and violent. It was in one of those that he did his first killing spree.

Homicidal Liu and Sully

Like i said, Liu and Jeff grew up in a very catholic family. While Jeff's likings collided a lot with their parent's beliefs, Liu's were more accepted, albeit reluctantly.

Their parents had very high expectations of Liu, and whenever Liu didn't meet those, he was phisically punished.

Liu, was very distant from both of his parent's, due to fear of them, and he also didn't have many friends due to the excessive times his family moved in and out of cities.

Liu due to the physical abuse, reclusiveness and lack of attachment to anyone, including Jeff on his earlier years of life developed DID.

He only learned about DID, after Jeff's attack, when he was 15, though.

Besides DID, and him meeting with Sully, his protector, Liu also has heavy insomnia issues and PTSD from beds. Due to that he has a coffee addiction.

Sully, after being split, held a trauma holder role on the system. He grew very angry at Liu's parents, and slowly but surelly started having a more protector role, not only for Liu but, at the time, for Jeff.

After Jeff's attack, Sully grew even more bitter and split himself again, his trauma holder role staying with one part and himself, Sully, staying as a protector. That's when Liu noticed how sociopathic Sully grew.

Jane the Killer / Jane Arkensaw

Jane, before the Jeff incident, was completely normal. The max she had was one or other little insecurities with her appearance, but she had a safe and healthy childhood and family.

She was shy, but nothing that would be deemed worrysome.

After what Jeff did, whoever, her insecurities with her appearance ran out of the roof.

She always covers as much of her body as she can, too worried about anyone seeing her burnt scars and almost leathery skin.

She has an immense hate for Jeff, obviously, but she is extremely empathic with the ones that got hurt by him, including inside the manor by some reason and other people who were hunting him down, like Sully for example.

After her kidnapping, and even before that, after Jeff's burning alive, she grew a extreme anxiety disorder, and regularly does trades with Ann to get medication for it without having to notice Slenderman or the proxies.

She has heavy traumas of kidnapping, torture and tends to have panic attacks when assigned something like that.

Ticci Toby

Toby, of course, has Tourette's syndrome, as stated by his killer name.

Though in this au, Toby's main motor tics are more concentrated on his face, like multiple repeated blinking. Other tics he has is jerking his head to the left, stomping his feet, and turning his eyes around.

On the vocal tics category, he mainly ends up repeating sounds, while rarely he may repeat a word or whistle.

He also has CIPA, and that is what made him be so enthranced by fire since a young age. He didn't feel the burnt or the hurt, he only saw the pretty colour of fire.

Toby has some heavy trauma of cars, which results in most of his missions he walking to his victims. He only accepts entering on a car if another proxy is the one driving, and he can't be on the front.

Toby also has heavy trauma of drunk people, so most times on the comemorations inside the manor, he will stay in his room or outside putting something on fire.

He copes with most of his traumas and fears and honestly anything he can by putting stuff on fire or throwing stuff at people and getting away with it by being a proxy.

Happyness is in the little things <3/j

Toby also has ADHD, with an emphasys on the hiperactive.

He has trouble remembering stuff that are not written down, so if you hear an alarm going off in the middle of the night, it's probably Toby trying to remember something.

i'mma stop here because i got tired lol but this was fun.

#creepypasta #headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanon #homicidal liu #homicidal liu headcanon #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanon #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanon #goblin writting #TW: religious trauma #TW: child abuse #TW: trauma discussion #TW: PTSD

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imsosocold · 1 year

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DANA YOU CAN’T HAVE BELOS BE RELIGIOUS AND NOT GO INTO WHAT HIS BELIEFS ARE WHEN IT’S A DRIVING FACTOR TO HIS CHARACTER !!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY DENOMINATIONS THERE ARE?!!! EVEN THOSE WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PART OF THE SAME RELIGIOUS GROUP CAN HAVE THEIR BELIEFS AND PRACTICES VARY!!! THEY CAN BE INFLUENCED BY LARGE FACTORS SUCH AS TIME PERIOD AND LOCATION AND SEEMINGLY MINUTE FACTORS SUCH AS WHAT CHURCH THEY GO TO!!! ONE’S BELIEFS AREN’T STAGANT AND TEND TO EVOLVE OVER TIME EVEN FOR THE MOST DEVOUT!!! YOU CAN’T JUST BE LIKE “HE’S A PURITAN WITCH HUNTER” AND LEAVE IT AT THAT!!!!

#I’m so close to creating specific beliefs for Belos.#Me: *has severe religious trauma and a bunch of non- views of religion*#also me:#Fun fact there being multiple realms was a common ancient religious view even in monotheistic religions such as Christianity #This is still present today obviously though it’s less common ( from my experience anyway)#It’s also soooo interesting how stories of one religion can come from other religions and beliefs and practices can merge and split #the evolution of religious stories and practices is fascinating to me #I’m on my religious dissector arc #weird hyperfixation but okay #toh #emperor belos #philip wittebane #toh salt #toh critical #religious discussion #religion #tw religion #noelle's rambles

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winged-thinged · 1 month

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maybe God is perfectly just and kind and loving, but I was brought up to believe that if I ever knowingly masturbated and then didn't immediately tell a priest about it, He would sentence me to suffer in a lake of fire for all eternity. so y'know. who can say

#sorry i no longer have theology seminars or canvas discussions to put my thoughts in so now tumblr gets all my (a)religious hot takes #ex-catholic #religious trauma

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needfantasticstories · 4 months

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Feb 1, 2024: I split chapter 1 into two chapters, and added chapter 3 and 4.

CHAPTER 3: CHAIN REACTION

Storms in Wild’s era moved quickly. Lightning struck close behind them. As the thunder faded, no one dared speak. The rain trickled, then stopped as spears of sunlight broke through the clouds, dispelling the forest’s deepest shadows. Dew glittered on the leaves. Nothing moved in the woods but a light breeze.

Sky stared into the rain-washed forest, standing by the trees he’d felled with his skyward strike. Smoke still curled lazily from the fallen trunks.

“They are gone,” Warrior stated sharply.

Slowly, the others wiped and sheathed their swords, and tried to make sense of what happened. Four silently gathered Hyrule and Legend’s fallen weapons. Wild passed out the last of his stamina potions. Sky stood staring ahead at the place Ghirahim and Hyrule disappeared, but he could not see the forest, only flashes of marble walls, black stone floors, and dim torches.

“Sky?” Wild approached the knight carefully.

Sky didn’t answer, only muttering what Wild guessed was a prayer. The cadence was smooth, and repeated over and over

Wild left the elixir at his feet.

Sky didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His legs barely held him upright already, shaking too badly to take even one step. His heart still raced. Branching scars on his right hand pulled taut over his clenched fist. His fingers ached as they locked around Fi’s hilt. Sky willed himself to let go, to relax, but how could he ever let her go again? Last time he’d left her, in the war of Ages…

But he didn’t deserve her.

Sky lifted her pommel high. Gripping her braided hilt in both hands, he slammed Fi’s blade into the muddy grass.

He knelt before her, stomach fluttering and threatening to empty as he moved. Heavy eyelids closed, blocking out the woods and seeing only red, black, and white flashes dancing in his vision. Chills crawled over his arms and down his back. His throat was squeezing closed...he couldn’t breathe…were the others watching? Of course they were. Why couldn’t he be alone? Why couldn’t the demon leave him alone? His ears rang with chilling laughter. They all knew now. They all could see, and now they’d watch him break like a coward. Nevertheless, he bowed his head, and he prayed.

“Hylia, Goddess of Light,” he mumbled, “Hear my prayer and guide my blade. I offer my heart and strength to your service. Grant me courage, wisdom, and strength. Hylia, Goddess of Light…”

Crossing blades with the demon had sparked a fire in him. At long last, he could fight back! It gave him focus, purpose, direction. He would right that horrible wrong.

But he’d failed again. Haunted by new memories.

So he prayed all the more urgently before Fi, the Goddess’s divine blade that he wasn’t worthy to hold.

“Hylia, Goddess of Light, hear my prayer and guide my blade. I offer my heart and strength to your service. Grant me courage, wisdom, and strength. Hylia, Goddess of Light…”

He prayed again. And again. And again.

Wild watched Sky kneel and pray with a mixture of pity and worry. It wasn’t that the goddess never answered prayers, she’d answered many of his own, if somewhat mechanically. But if asked, she always answered the first time without any oblations or prostration on his part. But this, he’d seen before.

It wouldn’t work. Not for Sky, not for Zelda. He wished he knew why. Goddesses, he wished he knew. Zelda still didn’t know how the goddess so easily opened her blessing to him when she had tried so hard. Perhaps she only answered specific requests.

He wanted to stop Sky, bring him back, and make sure he wasn’t too cold or too wet; but as with the princess, he dared not interrupt. TOo bad they wre so far from any of Hylia’s statues.

Wild walked away from the sky knight and handed a green elixir to Four, who was brushing mud off Hyrule’s enchanted sword.

“Wild, where would the Yiga have taken them?” the Smithy asked, finally breaking the heavy silence hovering over the group.

Twilight dismounted and soothed Epona while he checked her for wounds, and listened in. The others moved closer as well.

Slate raised, map glowing, Wild answered, “Here, most likely.” A blue symbol near the outlines of a canyon glowed at his fingertip. “In the Gerudo Highlands, just on the inside of those.” He lowered the slate and pointed to the highest ridge in a row of snow-capped mesas, all hazy in the distance. “There’s a canyon where they hide out. They’ve kept prisoners there before, though not many since I cleared them out.”

“You know the layout?” Time asked, and grimaced as he sipped a bitter elixir.

“Yes.” Wild couldn’t help but grin a little. He knew how to handle the Yiga base, having snuck in and out dozens of times. It was easily the best way to gather bananas while reducing the enemy’s supplies whenever they inevitably crawled back into the place like roaches. Wild laughed without mirth, “Legend isn’t one to go down easy. Good luck to the Yiga who grabbed him.” And good luck to the Yiga that stand in my way .

“We can’t afford to underestimate them. They can reach our worlds now, our homes , and impersonate anyone. No matter how foolish they may have been in the past, they’re a deadly threat on those two facts alone. So for once , Wild,” Time chided with a glare, his voice low and harsh, “take the threat seriously.”

Wild stepped back quickly and busied himself with his slate, eyes wide .

“Time…” Twilight growled.

His mentor ignored him. Time was so thrice-damned tired of not knowing what was ahead; what the black blood meant, what the goddesses had in store for them, and if they’d all make it home alive. Above all, he was tired of not knowing if Malon was really safe . Surely Wild could at least think about what this meant for all of them, if not for himself.

Warrior looked around the group. Each of them slouched where they stood despite the stamina elixirs. Fighting after two days without rest put them all at risk if they jumped into action once more; yet the stable was close. It would have to be enough, for Legend and Rulie’s sake, and for the hope of the others. They had to try. “So there’s still a chance we can find them. How fast can we get there?”

“Instantly, if it’s just me.” Wild lifted his slate. “I can’t teleport you until you register with Purah, but I can scout their base, then meet you at the stable. There’s a shrine near both locations.”

“You shouldn't go anywhere alone,” Warrior countered. “We should at least stay in teams.”

“I can take Twilight and be there in a heartbeat. Otherwise, it’s a five day journey at least.”

“You can teleport him?” Four raised an eyebrow.

“I can take one passenger, and Twilight is the best option.” Wild’s face and ear tips flushed.

“Should have led with that,” Four scoffed.

Wind elbowed him, but the Champion almost sighed in relief. One skeptic down. Two to go.

“Sounds like a plan.” Warrior nodded, and turned to watch Sky.

Wild turned to their eldest.

Time pinched his chin in thought at the plan. Splitting up felt like risking them all. He ached to see his stolen boys. Five day journey? Ten days, more likely. Wonderful. Time shook his head. “You sure that’s wise? Just you two against how many Yiga, if spotted?

“I know the area well. I know how to approach without being seen. Twilight’s one of our best scouts anyway. We’ll be in and out.” Wild hoped he sounded convincing. He did not want to explain why his slate would only work for Twilight. At least for future Twilight. “Purah is at the stable, and she can register the rest of you with the slate.”

“And you sure it’s safe?” Twilight eyed the slate skeptically as he dabbed red potion over the worst of Epona’s scrapes. He’d never told them about his nightmares of being sucked into the slate, but Epona sensed his attention and nuzzled him. He kept picturing himself in it, somehow.

“Yes, I’m certain.” Wild sniped back more harshly than he meant to.

“Fine. Your era, your rules,” Time affirmed. “Scout, but don’t be reckless. The rest of us will go on to Highland stable. We’ll gather supplies on the way.” He tilted his head forward toward a hearty radish just off the path. At least your world has one redeeming quality.

Wild nodded. “Zelda might have supplies waiting for us too. I’ll tell her what’s happened and make sure she’s safe.” Without further discussion or warning, he grabbed Twilight’s arm.

“Wild, wait! I—”

They disappeared in tendrils of brilliant blue light.

Startled, Epona reared.

Time hurried to soothe her. “He’s alright, girl. Let's get to the stable.”

Four nudged Wind. “So who was that creep?”

“Wish I f******* knew!” the sailor yelled as he cleaned the blood off his gear and scoured the woods for any signs of Yiga lingering nearby, as did the others.

“He sure seemed to recognize you.” Four gave him a side-glance as he spun the last drops of rain off his hammer and put it away.

Wind grimaced. “I know! But I’ve never seen him before!”

“Maybe you look like someone else?” Four theorized.

“I guess,” he replied lamely, examining his own muddy hammer.

“Wars! Sky! Time!” Four planted fists on hips once the pair joined the others closer to the crossroad. “Anyone mind finally explaining just who in the dark world that man was?”

“Yeah! Or why he wants Traveler and Veteran, or why he called me a weird name, or why his tongue is so nasty and long?” Wind fired his questions all in one breath.

“What did he tell you?” Time turned his sharp blue eye to Warrior and Sky. “Ghirahim seemed familiar with you and Sky.”

Sky did not answer, still kneeling in the woods.

“Sky? Can you hear us?” Four called.

“Is he hurt?” Time asked.

“No. I’ll explain about Ghirahim while we take a quick rest.”

“Warrior, we’re losing daylight. We should continue and meet with Purah,” Time insisted, and led Epona onward. “Tell us what we need to know on the way.”

Wind and Four gave Sky a worried glance.

“Then you three go on ahead. We’ll meet up soon. I can see you from the trailhead.” Warrior affirmed.

“We should stay together, Captain,” Time objected, and the younger heroes froze. “Sky, can you at least get to the stable? Before Ghirahim decides to come back.”

Sky shook his head and clutched at the soft, damp sailcloth tighter around his shoulders.

“Time!” Warrior shouted. “He already took what he came for. Just give us a little longer."

Time huffed. “I understand he’s shaken. We all are, but–”

“No, you don’t understand, or you’d hold your tongue,” Warrior snapped back. And thank the goddesses you don’t, Mask.

Wind and Four flinched at the sharpness in his tone.

“Either move out and we’ll catch up later, or settle in and I’ll explain the basics.” Warrior stomped away and wrapped his scarf around Sky’s shoulders. The knight didn't move, stiff as stone. Warrior returned, arms folded, as he waited for Time to decide.

The elder little brother exhaled slowly, and relented. He draped Epona’s lead over a branch thin enough for her to break if she needed to, letting her graze on the long grass as he joined a small circle with Four, Wind, and Warrior.

Where to start? Warrior wondered. The smaller heroes had never seen the demon before today, though Wind would someday face him in the War of Ages after this adventure ended. The knowledge that he would live to face that both comforted and haunted the Captain.

They’d also never seen Sky like this. Kind, collected if a little impatient to get home to his Sun. A machine on the battlefield, and yet there he trembled.

Warrior spoke quietly, “Ghirahim is the Demon Lord, and commands an army of monsters��or at least he did in Sky’s era. In my time, a powerful witch named Cia opened portals to other eras, including one in Skyloft and another below it.”

Four gaped. “Wait, you’ve been to Skyloft?”

“Briefly.” Warrior looked at Time. Mask had joined the war not long after that battle, but he’d told the Sprite much about the bright world of Skyloft and their battles there.

“You met Sky before the rest of us? And you didn’t say anything?” Wind asked, shocked.

Warrior stifled a smile and shook his head. The irony. Forgive me, Wind, but back then, you didn’t tell me about all this either, he thought. “No. I’d always assumed the portal opened to a more distant time, long before Sky.”

“But he was there.” Four concluded for him.

Time looked taken aback.

“We weren’t able to meet him.” He looked back at Sky,remained kneeling and repeating his prayer. Change the topic. “In my era, a witch named Cia and her champion, Volga, recruited Ghirahim to help her steal the Triforce and take over Hyrule. My Hyrule, that is. But the demon and Gannon’s other lackey tricked her into restoring Ganondorf as well. Once she learned he’d revived, she scattered the Triforce to keep it from him, and the gates closed. I faced Ghirahim in battle several times in order to defeat both Cia and Ganondorf. I never dealt with him beyond that. He’s stronger than I remembered. That bastar—”

“Wars,” Time interrupted.

“Language, yes. I know.”

“That’s—no, that’s not—If Sky was there, why didn’t the army ever meet him?”

Why didn’t he join the battle went unspoken. Time hadn’t heard Ghirahim’s mocking revelations in the fight. He also had yet to admit to the chain his role in the War of Ages, the little hypocrite.

“He’ll tell us when he’s ready,” the Captain answered with finality.

“Sky, can you hear us?” Four had called to him.

Sky wanted to answer, but he couldn’t . They were watching him. He could feel their eyes. He couldn’t do this to them, hold them back with his pathetic fear. Not now, when they had to hurry! They needed a plan. They needed Wild to explain this.

But his body was like stone. So Sky knelt, and stared blankly at the forest ahead as he prayed.

“Hylia, Goddess of Light, hear my prayer and guide my blade…” Sky mumbled again. Loftwing statues across the surface displayed this prayer, and repeating it often had brought him strength on Hylia’s mission to end Demise. No such statues graced the land now, but the words helped hold back the sting of that laughter, the rustle of that cloak, the tinkle of chimes, and the ghosts of chains on his skin.

He bowed his head against Fi, the sacred Blade that Seals the Darkness, so unnervingly quiet now, and begged Hylia’s forgiveness. He was still too slow. They were so close to completing the Skyward Strike when the demon had caught Hyrule! Electricity had danced on the young man’s fingertips just before—goddesses, hadn’t Legend and Hyrule endured more than enough already?

Ghirahim’s laughter rang in his ears, and his mocking words repeated in his mind. “Magic users… keep setting up those pesky spells at night…”

How long had the demon been watching them from the dark, unable to reach them due to spells he’d never known were saving them all? Had the others known?

“Hylia, Goddess of—”

How is the demon still alive? How?

But suddenly the prayer lost it’s power, like paper in a gale, fluttering away. His own burning thoughts burst from his heart. “Goddess, I failed you again! Please forgive me for not protecting them! Please show me the way! I will not falter. If I had another vision I did not understand, reveal it to me. Guide us!”

Sky’s hands shook around Fi’s hilt. Why had Hylia forsaken him again–NO! She had a reason. But how had the demon returned? Barely eight hours in Wild’s Hyrule, and everything had fallen apart. Ghirahim lived, and he’d taken Rulie, disappearing into thin air. Legend had yelled something about blood… but why? Worse still, Ghirahim had convinced the Yiga to join him, and they had taken Legend with them in a cloud of red. But where? Why?

He’d never broken apart like this, not since he had escaped. It had been nearly a year since then.

Memories swallowed him. He tried to clear his head of the demon flashing in his vision, the cold crawling over his skin, but his throat was closing...he couldn’t breathe… why couldn’t he breathe? Hands on his neck! Closing tighter! His breath turned into a gasping wheeze. Could the others hear? He tried to call for help, but his body locked up again, and refused to allow any movement or sound. He’d trained himself to do this, dammit, just to survive. Stay alive! Too slow, too late. Scream—no! don’t scream. Don’t give him that satisfaction! He found you. He knows where you are. He’s coming back!

Sky forced his eyes open and he stared at the tiny, gasping reflection of himself in Fi’s muddied blade.

A tall figure approached behind him

“Sky! What’s wrong?” Warrior wrapped his arm around Sky’s shoulder.

Sky lurched sideways in a panic and fell into the muddy grass. Throat still rattling, he scrambled up to one knee and sucked in air desperately, clutching his throat.

“Easy! Sky, I’ve got you. Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

Sky nodded, but still clutched his throat.

Warrior pulled him straighter and put a hand on his chest.

“It’s safe now. You’re okay. Breathe slowly.” The Captain put his hand on the knight’s shoulder.

You’re alive, a whispered comfort settled over his thoughts. You survived .

He gasped, finally pulling in air, dimly aware of the questions circling around him.

Sky’s thoughts raced. Think of Sun, her voice, the vibrating harp strings. Groose’s deep laugh. Pipit chatting about loftwings, his mom cursing in professor Owlan’s face when he criticized her housekeeping… anything but the dark, the cracking fingers, the daggers—

“Good. Keep breathing. It’s alright. We’ll find them. He wants them alive, so we have time to plan.” When his breathing grew steady once more, the Captain whispered, “I told them the basics about the demon, so you don’t have to.I only told them my part, not yours. Take a break.”

Sky began to hyperventilate again, and he hated himself for it. He never wanted to think of that monster again, but it was all around him now, swallowing him like Demise had Swallowed Sun. He could not escape it any more than he could escape their eyes all watching him, seeing him at last for the fool he was. Goddesses strike me down for my cowardice .

“No, no. Sky! look at me.” He took Sky’s shaking hand and pressed it to his own chest. “We’re here for you. Watch me breathe. Just like this.”

Sky felt the ribs expand under his palm, and he tried to follow suit. His own ribs felt like iron, unbending, but he tried again, and his lungs opened ever so slightly.

“You should—take her,” Sky gasped, looking at Fi. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“Can you walk, Sky?” Warrior’s smooth, calm voice stopped his dark train of thought.

Sky nodded.

“Then pick up your blade, Sky. She’s yours.”

Sky nodded in reply, but didn’t move; he only glared at his reflection on Fi.

Failure . Impa’s voice was cold and sharp.

Pathetic . Ghirahim sneered.

“Sky?” Warrior pressed a hand on his shoulder.

Sky shuddered, but did not pull away. He would not let his fear win. He held still. Controlled.

“Try again!” Knight Commander Eagus’s voice came to him, sure and strong.

Sky wiped the mud from his hands and knees as best he could before wrapping his stiff fingers around Fi’s hilt. She was cold, but warmed quickly in his palm.

Will she still accept me? Am I really worthy enough to wield her again? Or has Hylia called Warriors once again to step in for my failures? He frowned, holding tighter.

He pulled.

He expected her to fight him, but she slipped easily from the ground.

Sky stood up, still shivering but the small rest had revived him. He brushed the mud off his sailcloth and held it close as he walked beside Warrior onto the path forward, as Time led the others ahead.

At long last they reached the crossroad where Ghirahim had first appeared. Turning left, they started up a steeply rising canyon up toward Highland Stable. The path looked more like a muddy stream after the rain. They carefully picked their way through the mud and loose stones as it grew ever steeper. The men and boys watched the canyon tops for the slightest hint of enemies. An ambush here could be fatal with only small boulders and a few little trees for cover.

Warrior stayed at Sky’s side and accepted the young man’s vice-like grip just below his pauldron. Both held their swords drawn.

The sun began to warm the land.

“Th-thank you,” Sky quietly stammered. His eyes looked sharper now, less haunted, and he scanned the clifftops on the right so Warrior could focus on the left. Whether he stuttered from a chill or linkering panic attack, Warriors didn’t know.

“Any time, Sky.” He stole a glance back. Another line of clouds hung heavy in the distance. But something else, toward the West, caught his eye.

“Sky.” He nudged the knight and pointed behind them.

Sky turned, and gawked, his mouth open in a silent question, mesmerized by the sight.

#linked universe #linked universe fanfic #lu sky #lu warriors #lu time #lu wild #lu twilight #lu four #lu wind #discussion of past trauma #panic attack #religious guilt #religious trauma

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pandoratheprocrasticreator · 1 year

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au where the day of unity isn't until decades later and luz never comes to the boiling isles. willow somehow still gets transferred to the plant track and gets really good at her craft. amity never learns that bullying is bad, actually and they never reconciled in school.

and years later, blight industries is the most affluent company on the isles. odalia continues to be allergic to letting amity, who is her only child at this point to not run away from home the moment they turned 18 and cut all contact, associate with witches of "lower social standing."

so eventually when odalia tells amity that she's going to find her a nice respectable spouse amity just rolls her eyes and goes with it. maybe its some other heir to a big company. maybe it's a captain from the emperor's coven. maybe it's even the golden guard, if hunter managed to survive that long.

and then eventually she finds out that her mother has been trying to get her a date with PLANT COVEN HEAD WILLOW PARK

you've seen the countless amity x hunter miserable arranged marriage aus get ready for the amillow friends to enemies to arranged marriage to friends again to lovers 50k slowburn

#toh #the owl house #shut up pandora #amity blight #willow park #odalia blight #amillow #the hunter and amity arranged marriages were interesting unfortunately what the fandom didnt know then #was that there was no way belos would ever let a clone of his brother marry a witch bc belos thinks they all have cooties #i discussed this with my friends mandareeboo and yardsards and if they want to add anything they should feel free to #anyway im thinking odalia uses her connections to get audiences with the emperor #and every day shes like oh emperor you know my daughter is very beautiful and talented and of marriageable age #wont you introduce her to a respectable member of your coven #and belos gets so annoyed that in the end he forces willow to marry amity to get odalia to stop bothering him #and here willow would be kind of fucked up too #you dont become a coven head without doing religious trauma on the members of your coven #id like to think if no one was able to help her become confident like luz did when she discovered her plant powers #she would have overcompensated by becoming a horrible person as well #she would have tried to emulate boscha and amity bc to her thats what strength is #idk how gus fits in maybe hes also a coven head maybe he acts as willows guilty conscience maybe hes chilling

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listerbirdloml · 9 months

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average conversion between besties who occasionally kiss

(try to guess what album i’ve had on repeat all day that inspired this)

#i was born for this #iwbft #alice oseman #osemanverse #the ark #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #bicci #writing WIP #nothing brings out the religious trauma like a discussion over cereal at two am #rowan is fast asleep his agnostic ass couldn’t care less

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vulpinesaint · 9 months

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it is a truth universally acknowledged that if you raise your child catholic they will turn out fucked up and strange. there are many ways in which this end can be achieved but rest assured no matter what path your child follows in life they'll always be weird about god

#ur kid can be a tortured poet (like me) or an overly eager kid who announces that they have religious trauma to the class (a classmate)#heard that guy go 'haha yeah i went to catholic school so i have that trauma' in an awkward little way to the entire class #and i thought 'my guy. don't say it like that...' (cringed)#but you know what. then i remembered that i also turned out fucking weird. i just hide it slightly better in public situations #and i definitely also talked about having beef with god in my small group discussion that day dfjgshd #bracken getting a little wild in the eyes talking about how it was never adam and eve's fault because they only learned right + wrong #from the apple. and how could they have known what was right or wrong before that. to people he met a week ago #so you know what. solidarity with me and that guy. catholic-raised kids who turned out as fucking weirdos #valentine notes #catholic tag

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dykeseinfeld · 3 months

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actually being a fan of the locked tomb while

1. not being catholic or really giving a shit abt christian/catholic trauma and

2. not being able to discuss/think about suicide without going into a mental breakdown for several business days

is so fuckign funny bc like 50% of the series is either unintelligible or untouchable to me. anyway loved the scene when cytherea taught gideon how to hit a bong

#the religious analyses are interesting in a way but i just. i'm sorry catholic trauma is just funny to me #like i truly just. sorry that happened to you or whatever i guess anyway #maybe you shoudl convert to judaism abt it. hm.#i do very much enjoy the portrayal of internal guerilla conflict/civil war and i want desperately to know more abt the governmental structu #of boe and the nine houses and how surveillance actually plays out etc etc #but most of the discussion on here of that is. frankly too simplistic for me to care #would i have read this series if i actually knew what it was about? idk probably not but. i do love it and i'm in it for the long haul #tlt

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ardent-apostasy · 10 months

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a basic outline of how i lost my faith:

i watched a movie with an Evil Man in it

i was disturbed by Evil Man's actions

i ranted about how the Evil Man was actually pretty Evil, y'know?

i wrote down my thoughts on how Evil Man was Evil

i thought about how Evil Man was Evil

i lost sleep because i kept being annoyed by Evil Man

i was tired and replaced some names in my rant

i realized i was pretty much ranting about my religious trauma

so anyways, maybe that's why the church tried to ban me from watching movies!

#not naming the movie because i do Not want to discuss it #and i don't think naming it would actually help anyone (and frankly i think it's problematic for various reasons)#ex christian #exvangelical #ex fundie #apostate #religious trauma

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actaea-p-y · 1 year

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“Narinder only grieves for Shamura”

Yeah, after his volatile reaction to the flowers that grow whether or not Leshy walks among them. After likening the very dead Heket to poison mushrooms, a thing that has no concept of death. After wishing for a reminder of Kallamar’s demise, only to reminisce how a monument to his power was “a thing of beauty.” Are those displays of conventional, acceptable grief, untainted by resentment? Of course not. But there’s not nothing there.

Certainly, his relationship with Shamura is the most complex in terms of how they came to motivate both his own actions against the Bishops and the Bishops’ actions against him. Certainly, they’re the one who was most openly wounded by this violent shift in the family’s dynamic, and that triggers a unique reaction in Narinder.

But let’s not forget that by the time the Lamb has that conversation with him, Narinder’s defenses have likely been whittled down to the point where he is displaying more grief than resentment. Is that a shift that would have happened if he hadn’t meditated on his relationships with the other Bishops?

And while it’s tempting to contextualize this all in the realm of character personalities alone, the Old Faith was a religious institution that shaped much of who Narinder was. It only makes sense that the more time passes in his life outside of the Old Faith, the more contemplative he gets as to what he has lost, what his place in the world is. His reaction to the spider silk is a turning point in his questline, not its culmination.

This is all to say that my hot take is that Narinder has complicated grief for all of the Bishops, because religious / family trauma is a multi-faced beast. To Narinder, the Bishops were all cruel and beautiful and worthy of death, and the post-game is him slowly revealing the vulnerability he experienced living in the Old Faith— and now within the Cult of the Lamb. At the end of the day you are still indoctrinating a deeply troubled and lonely forced convert, with the added leverage that you were the accomplice to his crimes against his siblings. Siblings whose relationships with him were beyond salvation to begin with. It’s messed up, it’s great.

#cult of the lamb #text post #abuse mention #religious trauma mention #If Massive Monster prove me wrong I will be fine #Just that Leshy Heket and Kallamar tend to be in Shamura’s shadow when discussing #The One Who Waits

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maple-leaf-in-autumn · 7 months

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my mom, unprompted: so people have generally decided that crowley is aziraphale's sub. especially in the scene with the apology dance - that very much had dom/sub energy

me: oh, uh, well. i guess i agree actually. i do think they switch sometimes, but that would be the primary dynamic

my mom: oh for sure yeah. anyway-

#girl WHAT #like we spent the last hour talking about good omens #this was preceded by a discussion of how aziraphale and crowley both have religious trauma but it affects them in different ways #and then my mom pulls the conversation into a HARD LEFT #and then we immediately move on #i love that 54 year old woman. she's the best.#maple posts

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hargrove-mayfields · 2 years

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Part two to this piece.

Steve sticks to Tommy’s side like glue, taking advantage of the other boys aggressive attitude as a shield. Tommy is mean and Tommy is strong. That’s all Steve needs to feel safe.

That’s why Tommy does it. They don’t talk about it, they never did, but they’ve both had their fair share of bullies. Fighting their way to the top of the social ladder, with bitter words and fists, was just a way of keeping them safe.

Their friendship lasted a decade.

That same friendship that survived countless arguments and heartbreaks. A few accidental crushes. The day before Tommy asked Carol out, Steve kissed him. They never talked about it. And now they never would, leaving Steve now to be the heartbroken one, to this day longing for a connection like that back.

Maybe it’s payback for the emptiness in his chest Steve still feels over a lost opportunity, but things come fully to an end when Steve leaves Tommy in a parking lot and doesn’t turn back.

It’s not an easy transition, losing the only friend who ever understood him was almost harder than moving to Hawkins as a kid. For most of the next year, he sinks into a depression, ruining his relationship with Nancy that never meant much anyways and his social status.

Steve barely goes to school, he only washes his hair once a month, and he certainly hasn’t been keeping up with his studies or his religious extracurriculars, much to his mothers dismay.

All around, Steve’s got nobody left. Nothing left but self pity.

When he’s drunk off his ass at Tina’s Halloween party the next October, he sees Tommy hanging off the new kid, and he breaks. He’s been replaced, not just as keg king, but as the one by Tommy’s side.

No longer worth the effort. The shame associated with the Americanized Harrington name. It hurts more than being dumped a few months ago and wearing a matching costume with nobody.

He should’ve seen it coming. That’s that.

But he can’t just sacrifice what’s left of his reputation while Tommy schmoozes with the next big high school celebrity since he moved to town barely able to speak English. So he stays. He suffers.

He sits on the steps outside, a half empty bottle beside him and a cigarette to his lips, and he sulks. But at least he’s sulking in public. Better to start rumors than to not be relevant at all. His mame would be so disappointed.

What he doesn’t expect is for the attention to come from the very person who broke him down tonight.

Billy Hargrove saunters out of the party, a crowd of eyes following him, and sits next to him, one step higher so he can look down at Steve, maybe in some sort of power play. His lips, stained red from the punch, are pulled up into a smug smile, but his eyes are dull, the only light in them from a streetlight nearby.

Steve recognizes that look, the exhaustion that’s plagued his reflection since he lost everything, but he doesn’t speak. Not until he understands Billy’s intentions with coming to him.

It’s tense. Billy doesn’t want to speak first either. He’s not that type, so Steve has learned.

It’s only after a cycle of a few songs from the speakers blaring inside that Billy speaks up. The bravado from before by the kegs isn’t there, in its place a tone that sounds plain, but gruff. Neutrality from someone who has the capacity to not be, “I hate this place.”

Steve knows Billy’s attitude will depend on his reaction. There’s no motivation to be anything other than a friend. For the sake of maybe having somebody by his side, Steve hums in response to Billy’s small declaration, “You too?”

Billy looks surprised by him turning that question around. Like he thought he was the only one who would hate a shitty little town like Hawkins, Indiana. “You’re the King. This is your turf, man.”

“Not anymore. And I’ve always hated Hawkins.” Steve is nonchalant, because he thought that was obvious. He isn’t expecting that when he leans back against the cold brick steps and looks over his shoulder at Billy, he sees another question in his expression.

“You’re not from here? You’re like.. the most painfully Midwestern asshole here.”

That makes his heart skip with something like pride, a feeling he hasn’t felt since he was that excited seven year old, because his act has worked so well. And maybe, there’s a hint of something else there too, something he can’t quite place. He’ll write it off as getting validation from his replacement, a way to say he’s still better, “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“What, you got a secret?” Billy prompts, and Steve doesn’t like the tone he uses. Almost like he’d sensed the same power game Steve was working through in his head and wants to exploit it himself.

Steve wants that control back though.

He examines Billy for something he can turn back on him. It’s a cheap shot, but he reaches for the earring that was obviously hand made, and gives it a slight tug. It’s the left ear. Steve sees that for what it is.

He hums thoughtfully, and Billy knows what he’s implying before he even he asks in return, “Don’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Billy scoffs, at first indifferent until a thought seems to cross his mind. Of what could happen to him if Steve knows. The smug look melts off his face, replaced with a hint of fear that makes Steve’s stomach turn, an effect he hadn’t wanted.

“You aren’t gonna say shit, are you?”

“No. Hell no. I remember what it was like, when I was new here.” Steve touches ground again, to reel them both in.

“Tell me about it.” Billy sighs in relief, that response like a genuine inquiry. Like he’s digging for what makes Steve different, able to understand what it’s like to pretend.

“I had to change who I was. My parents sort of drilled that into me. I forget what it was even like to be myself. Because I’ve been someone else for so long.” Steve skirts around the full truth, the details of his story feeling insignificant compared to what he just learned about Billy.

It doesn’t seem to satiate Billy though, if anything he sounds more irritated with Steve, his questions more urgent and demanding, “Why? What’ve you got to hide?”

“Plenty from you.”

Another silent gesture to amplify his words, Steve touches the pendant around Billy’s neck. He’s not sure why he’s so comfortable getting this close with Billy, maybe it’s the confidence, but he hopes he gets the message. The Saint Christopher is a symbol of Billy’s religion around his neck, but Steve wouldn’t wear one if he could.

His secret. Billy recognizes it, and doesn’t pull away. He lets Steve examine the necklace, even if he looks nervous that somebody’s touching it. Steve wonders what it means to him. And what that means for them.

Billy sounds softer when he speaks again, “You’re not the same as me though. Missed the part where you turned into an asshole to make sure nobody ever tried to find out, then got too drunk and too soft on the front steps of a party and spilled the thing you never wanted anybody to know.”

So he gets it, but not fully. Steve feels a pull in his chest for the boy, because of this strange, barely established connection. Maybe it’s the alcohol buzzing in his system, but he wants to bridge the gap. He needs to.

“I used to be an asshole.” Steve offers simply.

But Billy dismisses the idea downright, “It ain’t the same.”

“It is. You have no idea the things I’ve done to protect myself.” Steve thinks about all the people him and Tommy would beat down to get to the top. He thinks about the matinee, and the things he said about the Byers. He doesn’t know much about Billy Hargrove, but he doesn’t think he could be much worse.

“And I don’t need to. I’ve seen the real you now.” Billy says it so casually, but there’s something in his tone like desperation. A plea for Steve to feel the same.

Suddenly the conversation has changed entirely. Steve thought he was the only one playing at this new dynamic, with Billy the passive control. They could argue and circle around and around for hours, but he didn’t expect that level of genuine coming from the person everyone wanted him to hate.

It takes breaking through a scramble of thoughts and feelings that threatens to make him sound like an idiot, before Steve manages to ask Billy, “What does that mean for us?”

“Three choices.” Billy holds up three of his fingers and lists off the options he’s willing to give Steve, who is distracted for a moment by the silver ring glinting on Billy’s finger, “We keep each other’s secrets and get so awkward from the tension we don’t speak anymore. We tell everyone and ruin each other's reputations. Or we make a new secret.”

That sits heavy with Steve, feeling like the floor gives way under him with his reaction at every new scenario. He doesn’t want to lose a potential bond with Billy. Not when just sitting here with him, even in the chill of the late October air, brings him so much comfort and warmth. There’s something there, and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in what that could be exactly. That’s exactly what he’s been missing.

Steve tests the waters, asking, “Make a new one..?”

“Like this.” Billy demonstrates his meaning by moving down one stair so he’s closer to Steve, but he doesn’t look him in the eye before he leans in and kisses him, smashing their lips together with a little too much force.

It’s unexpected but..

It doesn’t surprise Steve as much as it should, to be kissed by Billy Hargrove the first time he talked to him. They’re both drunk and apparently too apt to talk to strangers about their problems, and honestly, he doesn’t mind it.

If Billy didn’t pull away so fast and look up at the sky, he would’ve kissed him back. He’s been wanting to since he first saw those perfect cherry red bow lips. That’s what’s been driving his motivation to talk so openly with Billy, even if he hadn’t realized it. What he’d lost was here, brought along by the tangled and dull red string.

His bashert. The one he’s been looking for all this time.

“It’s dangerous..” Is the first thing Steve can manage to say, his breath caught in his throat. A brush of reality taints his rose colored outlook. They shouldn’t have kissed, they shouldn’t even be seen here together.

Billy smiles sharply, like he already knows the risk. That’s somehow more comforting to Steve, when Billy challenges his assumptions, “And? I know the King’s not dead. You really gonna pass all this up just ‘cause you’re afraid?”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just.. careful.” Steve shrugs, more casual than he feels.

Again, like he’s always one step ahead, the thing that makes Billy so intriguing to him, Billy declares, pushing his limits, “I’m not one for the careful life. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it for us. Not anybody else.”

It’s a tempting offer, and Steve wants to accept more than anything. But, despite what he said, he is afraid.

Afraid Billy won’t like him once he really knows him. This relationship has as much potential to fail as it does to be Steve’s saving moment. The only real connection he has after everything, or maybe ever had.

When Steve doesn’t respond immediately, Billy rises to his feet and gives a parting remark, looking scorned in his demeanor. He wanted this too, and it’s evident in the hurt in his voice, “I put myself on the line for you tonight, Stevie. That’s all I want in return.”

“Wait.” Steve stands too. He doesn’t want Billy to leave. The risk of getting caught doesn’t hurt as much as possibly losing this.

Steve catches Billy’s hand before he goes, his first interjection not enough to stop Billy from the path he’s on, “I choose option three.”

The glowing smile on Billy’s face is worth it. The kiss they share after is even better.

It’s quick, just in case anyone would see. A press of their lips that leaves them both flushed in the face and wanting more.

Billy is the one who proposes a chance to chase it, “Wanna get out of here?”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #jewish! steve #past stommy #vague discussions of #tw religious trauma #my writing #ej writer

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