#implied ptsd

[the-bard-is-bored]

//BANNERFALL SPOILERS//

Do you think she blames herself?

Do you think she wakes up screaming for the creaking king to take her instead?

Do you think she regrets her decision?

Do you think she has nightmares from the sound of her own heartbeat?

Do you think that whenever she hears her title, something in her screams: “coward”?

Do you think she can look at resin the same ever again?

Do you think simple yes or no questions make her spiral?

[shitpost-it-tristan]

Run Away

(( I got this idea and then ran with it. It's a Lion King fanfic, and there's an underlying topic of PTSD in it— in which, Timon and Pumbaa accidentally trigger Simba's PTSD, and they don't know about it. I'm gonna say this is hurt/no comfort. Haha, enjoy the pain, I suppose! @cammiko-arts-main @just-aal @timona-lisa ))

----

It started with a simple game of tag, how had things gone so horribly wrong?

Pumbaa was deemed 'It', and things were fine. Everything was fine, Simba was laughing and having fun.

Then suddenly, he'd frozen up. His ears flattened against his head, his eyes grew wide with what could only be described as fear, and his mouth hung open as he took shallow breaths.

—

"Here he comes! Run away, Simba! Run away and—"

Timon's voice was no longer his own, and Simba was no longer in their Hakuna Matata paradise. He was back in the gorge, his father lying dead just a few feet away from him, while his uncle held him against his leg with his paw around him as he wept.

"What am I gonna do?"

"Run away, Simba. Run away and never return."

It all flashed before his eyes; the moment Mufasa was caught by a wildebeest's horn as he placed Simba on the cliff, watching on bated breath trying to find him in the stampede beneath the smoke, when he pounced and gripped onto the side of the gorge, and then… fell to his death.

—

"No!!"

Simba curled in on himself as Pumbaa skidded to a stop to prevent himself from colliding with the cub.

Timon was there in an instant, checking for any sign of injury— he found none that were visible. The injuries weren't physical, but mental.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Timon asked tentatively, as his paw rested just above Simba's.

Pumbaa stood by with a look of pure worry, wondering if he had caused this.

"No." That was all Simba had said, and that was fine. They wouldn't push him, but that didn't stop them from worrying about him.

"Hey, Kid," Timon began softly, but when Simba looked at him, the words died in his throat. This kid had been through something… Something real bad… Timon cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a lump grow in it. "It's getting late, maybe we should hit the hay?" He tried to sound calm and collected, but he was never good at pretending.

"I'll join you guys later, I need to take a walk."

Simba sounded the same way he had when they'd first met. Glum, down in the dumps, depressed, blue— point taken.

"Don't wander too far!" Timon shouted after him, but Simba hadn't turned around. He sighed, and couldn't help the nagging feeling, so he voiced it in the form of a question.

"Was it something I said?"

[tadc-harlequin-au]

has any of the bunch ever sent Kingr in attack mode either accidentally or on purpose? Because the flash of light note feels like a “this has been done before and it will never again happen” kind of situation

Yes, the power went out one night, when there was a very terrible storm. The crew were left in darkness, Caine was nowhere to be found.

So when the crew were trying to locate one another in the midst of the darkness, one of them shone a light directly onto Kingr's eyes... Leading to an unfortunate encounter.

(Thankfully, he becomes less reactive to sudden bright lights as the story progresses)

[sickficideas]

Angel dust hcs???

oh DO I....he's my second fav i think and he's great for angst

- i love the idea of random italian mumbling when he's got a fever or when he's really out of it and not realizing it at all

- he's really bad at noticing when he's sick. he'll chalk up fevers to being tired from working all day/night, if he throws up or feels nauseous he'll usually assume it's in his head or food related. he is genuinely confused when the first person at the hotel takes his temperature to tell him he has a fever...insisting he never gets sick and that's not possible ):

- he's very low energy and quiet when he's sick so it's very easy for others to notice

- the fever nightmares are Bad. waking up in full panic attacks but refusing to bother anyone else with the details. most of them know to just comfort him until he feels safe ):

- he absolutely needs to be holding something when he's resting and Fat Nuggets is usually the victim

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Markhyuck) a fire out of control

With the arrival of summer, the infamous Mark Lee finally arrives on the shores of Jeju Island.

Donghyuck is impossibly intrigued.

Alternatively, Donghyuck meets stupidly endearing firefighter Mark Lee and it all goes uphill from there.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[snowshowerwriting]

Peace

TW- Implied PTSD

@epiclamer Incase this fits your hurt hero palette?

Despite all the days the hero had gotten off, nothing had truly relaxed them. Even when there was no constant sound of the city that reached into their room, their mind would be loud enough to fill the silence. What was once peaceful nights now became muddled memories and loud reminders of past mistakes.

When the Villain was defeated and done for, sent to a correctional prison in another state, there was quiet. Quiet but not peace. Celebratory fireworks and festivities in the name of Hero that followed felt false. What peace was there to all those who Hero hadn't been able to reach in time? So much rubble and debris covered the city in the aftermath of the Battle. So many civilians crushed and so many innocent blood had coated the Hero's hands. Whether people admitted it or not, they had caused as much destruction as the villain in the name of justice and heroism.

How could the hero celebrate with civilians when they should serve the same time as the villain in a penitentiary, if not more?

As years passed, doctors told them it was from the stress of their past. The fear, the lives they burdened, the pressure that crushed them. It was all an excuse for something that could've been avoidable. Sympathetic words tried their best to comfort Hero.

Let go of the pain. Even if their pain was gone, getting rid of the ghosts of those who cried wouldn't leave them.

It's in the past. It seemed as if the entire world forgot about everything except for them.

Look at your life now. What was there to look at? A hero past their prime. A sword in the age of machines. Legacy wasn't what they sought for. Their names on a plaque did little to soothe the turmoil that furiously boiled on the worse days and quietly simmered on the best.

Move on. The hero tried. And at some point, they did move on. Truly. Pain became bearable. The dull ache in their chest began to hurt less. Eventually, it came to feel lighter. The city became tolerable once again. Far from having the love and care that hero once wanted to protect, still. But at least now they could deal with it.

Healing was hard, and sometimes, Hero had taken two steps back with every two they went forwards. The world sped by them so fast, as if someone had changed the speed of life to go by much faster. And yet, the hero felt as if it couldn't be slower. Time at work felt sluggish, as if they were being dragged through mud. Through it all, they truly managed to recover.

Despite all the healing, and all the time that had passed by, peace and the gentleness of life never seemed to make itself familiar with the Hero.

[cielcreations]

“JUST HIT ME!” - Empires SMP Story

TRIGGER WARNING: Implied past abuse, implied past trauma, implied PTSD, and lots of cursing.

Solidarity wasn't sure what started the argument.

All of the emperors were just trying to enjoy a nice time at Chromia. But Joel had said something. Was it that Solidarity was a toy? Asking if he could pull his string? Asking how Buzz is doing? He wasn't sure, but he knew that whatever Joel said set him off. He told the god to stop, only for the brunette to amplify his jokes. He simmered, simply not reacting. Joel continued amplifying the jokes as Solidarity bottled everything, drumming his fingers, slowly, slowly, slowly getting angrier and angrier.

Well, it all toppled over and Solidarity, without thinking, just pushed the other down and screamed to "fucking shut up!"

Joel went to step forward, but the others immediately moved to stand between the two. Joel and him began screaming. Solidarity was screaming how enough was enough and to shut up while Joel screamed how he was being oversensitive, that is was all a joke, that there was no reason to get physical. All things he has heard before.

Solidarity screamed, "JUST STOP, I DON'T LIKE IT, THE JOKE IS OLD, STOP!" He went to step forward, Scott, Fwhip, and Pix holding him back.

Joel was being held back by Sausage, Lizzie, and Gem, "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?! CALM DOWN-"

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN YOU ARROGANT FUCK!"

Joel's eyes widened and his eyes turned yellow, sparks surrounding him, "What was that, toyboy?"

Solidarity grew angrier and went to step forward with a growl, only for Scott to yank him back.

"JOEL!" Sausage screamed, "Enough! Stop it, now!"

"HE'S THE ONE WHO STARTED IT! WHAT'S WRONG, SHERIFF?! IS THE SNAKE IN YOUR BOOT BOTHERING YOU THAT MUCH OR IS IT THE STICK UP YOUR ASS?!"

Solidarity tried to push the other three off, "DON'T YOU HAVE ANY BOUNDARIES, AND FUCKING RESPECT?! WHEN PEOPLE TELL YOU TO STOP IT MEANS 'STOP'! NOT 'KEEP GOING UNTIL I FUCKING EXPLODE'!"

"AREN'T YOU ONE TO TALK?! TELLING EVERY TO FOLLOW YOUR CORRUPT WAYS AND, IF THEY DON'T, THEY'RE A CRIMINAL! FUCKING HYPOCRITE!" Lightening struck outside and Sausage and Lizzie screamed at him to stop.

Solidarity managed to get out of Pix, Scott, and Fwhip's hold, screaming, "JUST HIT ME! FUCKING HIT ME! HIT ME, PUNCH ME, DO WHATEVER! I'M USED TO IT, JUST DO IT ALREADY!"

That seemed to make Joel stop, eyes widening at his words. Solidarity had tears in his eyes as he glared the god, who had completely froze. Everyone had, it was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. The only thing you could hear was Solidarity's heavy breathing.

"J-Just do it already! Just hit me!" Solidarity huffed, "T-Tell me how pathetic I am, how useless I am, go ahead! I-It's fine, I'm used to it!"

"...Solidarity...." Joel muttered.

"Just do it..." Solidarity whimpered, trying his best to hold back his tears, "Just do it..."

Joel gently pushed the ones holding him off as he stepped forward. Solidarity sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Don't make a noise, don't make a noise, don't-

Joel had shrunk to his mortal height before gently pulling the dirty blonde in for a hug. Solidarity went stiff, choking on a sob.

"I'm not going to hit you. I'm not going to hurt you." Joel squeezed Solidarity, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Solidarity. You're right, you are."

Solidarity began to shake, tears running down his cheeks.

"It's okay, I'm sorry." Joel gently rubbed his back, "I'm sorry. I'll stop with the stupid jokes. You're not a toy, Solidarity, you're a good sheriff, I'm sorry."

Solidarity's knees shook as he whimpered, hugging the other as tight as he could, burying himself in the brunette's neck, sobbing his heart out.

That's the first time someone told me I was right and that they were sorry...

[uwingdispatch]

Nights Spent Tender

Nights Spent Tender

Notes: Cassian Andor/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, mild hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader, domestic fluff

CW: chronic illness, chronic pain/unnamed physical disability or health issue, implied PTSD, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You always hear them before you see them when they come through the door of the caf bar. No matter how hard he tries, Kay can’t move quietly—and Cassian rarely goes anywhere without his droid companion.

You’re sitting at a small table in the back corner, hunched over a propped-up datapad, finishing up your work for today. You could be at home, but it gets monotonous, and it’s nice to walk to this little spot just a few blocks from your house and take a moment to chat with familiar faces.

Not to mention, this caf bar is where you met him, just a few years ago, though it does feel like you’ve known him for longer.

Cassian makes his way to your table, wraps his arms around you from behind, and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You work too hard, my heart,” he says. “How long have you been here?”

In fact, you barely work part time, your health impairing your ability to take on a full-time job. Some days you can focus enough to get through hours’ worth of work. Some days you’re too fatigued and sore to even get out of bed. Cassian tells you often that you can quit your job at any time, that he makes enough to support the both of you comfortably. But, for now, you felt good being able to contribute a little.

“Only a few hours,” you say. “I’m almost finished. Give me a minute and we can go home.”

Kay is at the counter ordering caf for Cassian and probably water for you. He does this often—notices your water flask is empty, takes it upon himself to hydrate you. And since he and Cassian had begun meeting you at the caf bar on their way home from the office, it had become a ritual, usually with a remark along the lines of “Cassian says I have to help keep you alive.”

Other injured veterans you know were issued cute little ball droids for support after the war, but Cassian had Kay. Sometimes you think Cassian is as much a support for Kay as Kay is for him

Today the droid is wearing a blue scarf you made—one of the first you’d ever given him. Folks in the neighborhood were used to seeing him now, but in the months after he first appeared here—well, so many beings had seen droids that looked just like Kay commit atrocities during the war. Having an Imperial enforcer droid for a neighbor was understandably jarring. But an enforcer droid in a scarf? Much less scary. He had a little collection now—some you’d made for him, some he’d bought with his own credits.

“Are we leaving?” Kay asks, startling you.

You’d briefly closed your eyes to enjoy the pleasant pressure of your partner’s arms pulling your body towards him. He smells of his leather rebellion jacket, and of the bougie meiloorun shampoo he found on an off-world trip and now can’t give up.

You power down your datapad and put it in your shoulder bag, which Cassian insists on carrying for you. He takes your hand in his and helps you out of the chair where your body has stiffened over the hours you’ve been here. You wave goodbye to the staff and, as you walk to the landspeeder, Cassian has his steaming caf in one hand and your hand in the other.

*

Your first ride in that speeder had started with the imposing droid approaching you and blurting, “I told the captain he should talk to you. But he hasn’t.”

The droid was blunt, but seemingly sincere. You’d seen him coming and going in the caf bar for a couple of months—and, yes, you'd been frightened the first time you saw him. Like most Wookiees you knew, he was so tall that he had to duck to get through the door. And while you’d never seen an enforcer droid in person, like so many others, you’d seen the holos.

But the droid was always with a handsome man in a well-worn Rebel Alliance jacket. It had been a few years since the war, but you knew enough rebels here on Ralltiir to trust that a man wearing the rebel insignia had a good explanation for the droid. You wanted to introduce yourself, but a part of you was worried that an awkward encounter could ruin this quiet, comfortable place for the both of you.

So when Kay approached you on his person’s behalf, you laughed. And then started apologizing, because, well—who would want to be laughed at in this scenario?

“It’s okay,” Cassian said. “Kay says he’s an extrovert, but he doesn’t seem to like very many people. And not very many people tolerate him.”

Somehow the only response you could get out was, “Oh?”

“I have wanted to say hello, though,” he said. “And normally I would ask you out to get a cup of caf, but it seems we’ve both already done that.”

“Looks that way,” you said. Was this man asking you on a date? You didn’t date very often, and weren’t interested in most of the men who showed you attention. But his rich brown eyes radiated kindness—for some reason, you trusted him. “Captain…?”

“Andor,” he said—then caught himself with a short laugh. “But…I’m a civilian now. My name is Cassian,” He paused to take a deep breath, ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Can I take you to dinner? If you’re not busy tonight?”

*

Today you return home and you’re so tired you think you might sink all the way into the couch and never move again. Cassian picks up on this immediately—he’s attentive in a way you’ve never known another person to be, in ways you weren’t even attentive to yourself. Sometimes it seems like he can use the Force to read your mind—but, no, he’s just an experienced spy. So he brings you a heating pad and places a pillow behind your back before he sits down on the couch, moving your legs so they’re over his lap.

“Let’s order take-out tonight,” he says, tipping your head back to press a sweet kiss to your lips. His hair tickles your face and you tuck it behind his ear. “I don’t feel like cooking, and you need to rest.”

He needs his rest, too. It’s been a long week and, while Cassian is no longer a spy, he is still working for the government, and it isn’t an uncomplicated job. Sometimes you worry that he isn’t letting himself slow down because slowing down would mean dealing with some really difficult things—things he’s told you he hasn’t even brought up with his therapist because he knows how hard unpacking that trauma will be.

But healing takes time—and patience. For now, Cassian is pulling up menus on his datapad, rattling off names of restaurants. He pauses at the menu for that little place you went on your first date, at the time a hole-in-the-wall, now a local favorite.

*

You left the caf bar with Cassian and his droid and got into a landspeeder—an older model, but one that had clearly been modified to accommodate the droid. You’d made it a rule for yourself not to do this sort of thing—getting into speeders with men you didn’t know—but you were strangely comfortable with Cassian as you made your way from coffee to dinner. At the restaurant, Kay moved into the driver’s seat and left, presumably for home.

You’d never heard of this place, but Cassian had promised it had “something for everyone.” And he’d been right. You were there for quite a while, somehow talking for hours, only leaving when you realized the entire staff was waiting for you to go.

Cassian walked you home, and a few blocks from your place, he took your hand in his, his palm softer than you’d expected for a man who had spent most of his life fighting. And while you had never once invited a man into your apartment on a first date, that night you did.

You’d barely stepped inside when Cassian said, “I hope this isn’t too bold of me, but I’d really like to kiss you.”

You smiled and reached to touch his shoulder, his linen shirt soft against your skin. “I’d like that, too,” you said.

He cupped your face in his hand before brushing his lips against yours, just a gentle touch at first, but soon deepening as you stumbled toward your sofa, the scruff of his short beard coarse against your skin, your hands lost in his hair.

The night was a pleasant kind of endless—you felt so relaxed, tenderly held in his arms. And between bouts of kissing, you talked over cups of jogan fruit tea. At dinner, talk had been casual. Now you told him about your health issues, about why you lived so far away from your family. And he told you about why he’d stayed on Ralltiir after the war, opening up about his closest friend, Jyn, who had stayed here as well. He told you about his relationship with Kay and how he owed the droid his life.

You’d later learn that this was unusual for him, that Cassian didn’t often offer so much of himself so readily, but he felt safe with you, too.

When the sun started to come up, he called Kay for a ride. And when Kay didn’t answer, you told Cassian he should stay—it was hard to find a taxi at this hour. He insisted on sleeping on the sofa rather than in your bed. “Let’s not rush things,” he said. “We have so much time.”

When you woke you found Cassian still asleep in the living room, your tooka-cat curled up in a sunbeam on his belly. As you quietly made your way into the kitchen, there was a part of you that was surprised he was still here. But there was also a part of you that knew then that this was how it was supposed to be, the two of you at home, about to share breakfast.

When you finally had pancake batter ready to pour, you looked over the kitchen island to see Cassian gently petting the tooka, now belly-up in his lap and purring.

*

Tonight the sun sets over your little house as you clear the dishes from the table and place them in the sink. Kay has docked himself in his charging station for the night, having hung his scarf on one of the hooks on the back of his door. It’s just you and Cassian now, and he's luring you back to the sofa.

“Have you seen this holo?” he asks, bringing up an image on the viewscreen in your living room. “I can’t remember if we watched this yet. But someone mentioned it at the office today and it reminded me of you.”

“No,” you say. “We can put it on.”

You grab a blanket from the linen closet and join Cassian on the sofa where he guides your head into his lap. You reach up to caress his cheek and he takes your hand, kisses the inside of your wrist, and tells you, “Whenever we eat at this place,” he tips his head at a takeout container you both missed while cleaning up, “I think about the night I first kissed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Kay I said this, but I’m so glad he embarrassed me that day.”

“Are you sure?” you tease.

“Positive.” He pauses. “You know what…how’s your back?

“Better.”

“Forget the holo. Do you want to…” Cassian nods toward the bedroom.

“Yeah,” you say. “I really do.”

He turns off the screen and helps you up, leading you down the hall, his lips on yours. As you tumble into bed, you brush his hair out of his eyes and he whispers “My heart, I love you so much.” into the curve of your neck.

You could live in this moment forever, you think. The warmth and comfort of your partner, here in the home you’ve made together, both of you finally relaxed after years of uncertainty—it’s more than you’d ever dared to hope for. And certainly more than you thought you’d find at that little caf bar. As Cassian’s hands make their way under your shirt, you close your eyes and savor every touch, silently thanking the stars that, with every city on every planet in the galaxy, somehow this man ended up in your path.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you for reading! I hope you can see yourself in this comforting Cassian fic.

Tagging some folks:

@princessxkenobi @zinzinina @maul-ologue @operation-spot​ @waterpancakeao3​​