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neonpaperlanterns · 10 days

Note

Okay part two of the last request! (Also good job on the first one).

Dog day x reader heavy angst to fluff.

Poppy, kissy, and dog day realize the reader has been taken by catnap. They search for he and only end up back in play house. Throughout the search dog day gets more and more panicked and aggressive. They find the reader is bad shape and hung in the same jail like dog day used to be. (Trigger warning). Dog day, while seeing this, just losses his mind…his pupils no longer visible in his eye sockets. Catnap taunts dog day asking if he’s that attached to the reader before dog day tackled his and fights him. The fight pretty gore heavy and dog day yells at catnap while fighting saying he should’ve killed him. It gets to a point where dog day is about to kill catnap but the reader weakly calls for him and he immediately stops and looks back to see them okay. They run away and nurse her back to health before dog day confessed that he loves her and the two kiss. The end!

Wake Up

Part two of Star Gazing. [Part one]

[A/n: Trigger warnings for mild blood and gore. And technically attempted murder.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DogDay fought against the rubble of their destroyed fort. Smoke clogged his nose and made his head spin. The world around him was becoming hazy as he clawed his way out. There was a throbbing sensation in his left leg as he attempted to right himself. Scrubbing at his eyes, he tried to clear his vision.

It wasn’t working.

Shapes were blurring together and his knees were buckling.

“Angel?” He called out, his voice filled with choked panic. He was met with silence.

“Angel?” He called out again, trying to stay standing as he stumbled through the room. “Poppy? Kissy?” His voice echoed and bounced around in his own skull uncomfortably.

“Where are you?” DogDay felt his shoulders sagging as his gait became uneven. Tripping into the hallway he tried to brace himself. He had to stay standing. He had to find them, had to find you. But his arms weren’t working, they felt disconnected from the rest of him. And with every shuddering breath he took he filled his lungs with more of that horrible gas.

“No I have to…. I have to…” words slurred together as he slipped down the wall. “Have to find every… everyone..” Against his will DogDay’s eyes dropped closed. Even behind closed lids all he could see was red.

* * *

“W..ke u.. ,Do..da.. co..e on wa..e up!” DogDay groaned, something was touching him and he needed it to stop.

“Go away.” He went to push away the insistent thing that kept shoving him but everything was just so heavy.

“No! Ple..e you hav.. to g..t up!” Oh god why were they so loud!

“DOGDAY!” Every fiber of his being shattered like glass as his eyes snapped open. Adrenaline tore through his veins as he bolted up. Pain lanced through his head as his gaze bounced around unfocused.

“Wha-” small hands grabbed at his face. But something was incorrect, it made the hair on his spine stand on end.

“It’s us, it’s Poppy.” His heart was thundering in his chest as he tried to even his breathing. Looking down he felt more confused than reassured as he stared at Poppy.

“Where’s..” he trailed off, eyes darting around looking for you. Yet all he found was Kissy and the small doll still grasping at his face.

“Catnap took them.” Poppy’s voice came out quiet as she clutched at him.

DogDay stopped breathing, his vision was narrowing .

No.

This couldn’t be happening.

No. No. No.

A low snarl was building in his chest as he dug furrows into the ruined ground. He has no idea how you have kept calm in situations like this. How you kept them all from falling apart. He wished he could be but he wasn’t you. Standing up he felt as the fur around his chin was tugged at and he heard the surprise squeak leave Poppy as she dropped to the ground. If you were here you would comfort her, you wouldn’t have pulled away like he did. But you weren’t and Dogday wasn’t you.

Storming his way out of the school he didn’t stop to see if the others were following. He knew exactly where that traitor had taken you. Ripping out the metal lamppost that stood out front, he felt it twist and bend underneath his grip.

“DogDay wait, we should think this through.” Poppy called after him but he didn’t listen. You would have listened. You always listened to them, to their concerns, their fears, everything. You listened.

But he was not you.

Gritting his teeth DogDay stared down The Playhouse.

“Please-” Poppy flinched backwards as a snarl tore from his throat, interrupting her.

“No! Angel needs us. I will not leave them with that thing for another moment.” Later he would regret how he acted towards Poppy but right now he didn’t care. His heart clenched in his chest and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. The door loomed above him and he could feel himself hesitating.

DogDay could still smell the cloying scent of old blood and mildew. He could still see those hungry piercing eyes. Could still feel those gaping ravenous mouths tearing him apart piece by piece.

Bile pooled at the back of his throat. He had thought he would never have to come back here. Had done everything to make sure that you, him, or the girls wouldn’t have to step foot inside that hellish nightmare again. But here he was and he was hesitating and he hated himself for it.You needed him and he was just standing out here.

The image of your content face and the feeling of your weight on his chest flooded his mind.

Gritting his teeth he tightened his grip on the metal pole.

BANG!

Metal creaks as he kicks the door.

BANG!

This isn’t subtle. He was sure Catnap could hear this.

BANG!BANG!BANG!

Pain lances through his leg.

CRASH!

DogDay is breathing heavily as dust flies up into the air. He can hear skittering as he runs towards the cells. The feeling of being followed made his skin scrawl as he rushed through the once colorful plush maze. His vision narrowed as he threw himself at the entrance to the pool.

He stopped again.

The pool area was shrouded in deep shadows, the only light came from the one above the other door. It flickered sporadically, elongating the silhouettes made by the rusted ducks.

Memories unbidden clawed their way to the forefront of his mind.

Everything is so quiet, it feels near deafening after the alarms. He can still hear the screaming, how they cried for help. The phantom of pounding fists pulse along his chest and the taste of iron still lingers on his tongue. His head is spinning, the world is tilted and he doesn’t know which way is up.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” DogDay shouts. Ears twitch as Catnap turns to look at him. The feline's head is titled in confusion. He flinches as the cat approaches, slow and measured Catnap looms above him.

“What do you mean what I’ve done?” A heavy purple paw still stained with blood comes up to rest on his shoulder.

It pulls him closer.

“I think you mean, what have we done.” the words slither along DogDays’s ears. It makes him gag. The smell of poppy’s is suddenly rapidly filling the air.

“And what we have done my friend is give those that hurt us exactly what they deserve.”

Eyes flutter open, DogDay’s vision slowly swims into focus. Everything feels heavy. Attempting to lift his head feels impossible.

A wheezing groan escapes past his uncomfortably parched mouth.

“Oh you’re awake.” The sound of Catnaps voices makes his stomach churn.

“That’s unfortunate.” It’s said with dull amusement. “But I suppose you will succumb again soon.” The way the cat was speaking was grating on his ears.

“Wh.. Why?” He choked out, his throat felt so dry. Catnaps hums at his question. Through blurry eyes he watches as a paw comes up to rest on lower abdomen.

“He said it would be better this way.” Catnaps' tone continues to hold the same dull amusement.

“What wou- Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

DogDay sucked in a breath, heart leaping into his throat as a scream echoed through the decrepit pool room. The sound bounced around in his skull and for a moment he didn’t know if it was real. What was happening? Clutching at his chest he felt like all the air had escaped his lungs.

“Aaaahhhhh!” Another scream and he was moving. Ramming into the other door he burst into the other room. The faint orange glow of old candles littered the hallway. Visibility was low but it didn’t matter. At the end of the room stood Catnap, hunched over with gas billowing out of his mouth.

He couldn’t see you but he could hear you. Soft quiet sobs drifted through the air.

“Oh you’re here.” He watched as the feline cocked his head to the side. Something flickered in those cavernous eyes.

“We thought you’d never come.” Catnap’s tail swished lazily as he fully turned to look at DogDay. The traitor's face was on full display now and something snapped inside of the canine. Blood was splattered across the feline's face. It stained the purple fur crimson and the world suddenly became solely centered on the cat.

DogDay saw red.

In seconds he was breathing the same air as that… that bastard. Raising his weapon, it made contact with CatNap’s head. The monster screeched as he attempted to scramble backwards. DogDay didn’t let him get far. Bringing the pole down he could hear a CRUNCH.

Catnap’s shoulder sagged.

He brought it down again.

And again.

Catnap was screaming. Red was pooling beneath him. He was trying to fight back. Claws would swipe at him, tearing into his skin but he kept bringing the metal pole down. Kept hearing crunch after crunch.

“DogDay.”

Scream after scream.

“DogDay!”

Plea after false plea,

“DOGDAY!” DogDay stopped, the pole raised. His body shook from the aborted motion.

“DogDay please stop. Please.” His head snapped to the side. You hung there in a cell all too familiar. Your arms stretched above you with belts pulled tight enough to bruise. Blood spotted along your clothes and dripped from your mouth. He swallowed thickly as he looked at your tear stained face.

“Please.” You begged, your voice hoarse. The pole clattered to the floor as he rushed over to you. His hands were shaking as he undid your binds. You dropped heavily into his waiting arms.

He watched as you curled closer to his chest.

“Please get me out of here.” He could only nod at your request. His voice failed him as he held you close. Taking uneasy steps towards the exit he glanced behind him.

Catnap was a bloody heap. He was breathing, it was shallow but he was breathing. Trickles of smoke fell from his gaping maw and one eye light flickered, stained a murky red. The cat watched them with a look DogDay could not decipher. A paw weakly reached out towards him, Catnaps jaw clicked wordlessly.

DogDay shut the door.

* * *

Hiding above PlayCare DogDay watched over you.

You’ve been asleep for four days. Barely waking up enough for him to at least get some water in you. Poppy and Kissy would creep in, their movements skittish as they dropped off supplies. He would watch how weary they were, how they kept glancing at him and God he needed to apologize. Yet every time he tried the words would get caught in his throat.

All he could muster was a nod of acknowledgement and a whispered ‘you don’t have to leave.’ but they wouldn’t stay. He really couldn’t blame them.

Taking a fresh cloth he wiped it over your face. The cuts along your cheeks and forehead were thankfully shallow. He got the feeling they were meant to be superficial. A way to upset him, which worked. Rage and guilt bubbled in his gut every time he looked at you.

If he hadn’t hesitated. If he had just been a little bit faster then maybe you wouldn’t be in the state you were.

“Now that’s not the expression I wanted to see when I woke up.” Your cracking voice had him dropping the cloth. His focus solely on your groggy lopsided smile.

“You’re awake.” His voice comes out wobbly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Are you hungry?”

“I should go get-” A hand on his face cuts him off. Your thumb is tracing along his cheek and you’re looking at him with such affection that it makes all his thoughts but one come to a halt.

“I’m so happy you’re awake.” He choked out as tears welled in his eyes. “And I’m so sorry.” He cried as he nuzzled further into your hand.

“No, no, don't apologize.” You’re hushing him, wiping his tears away as you cradled his head in your hands. “Please don’t apologize. What happened wasn’t your fault.” You lean your forehead against his.

Tears blurr his vision as he continues to cry. “But-” A soft bush of lips against his make him pause. Leaning back he stares at you, wide-eyed.

“No buts. I love you, you saved me. You protected me. Never apologize for that.” You shake him a little bit for emphasis.

“You love me?” He asks, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Yes, very much.” You’re smiling and his heart is beating so fast and hard that he is sure you can hear it.

“I love you too, so much that I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest.” Tentatively he leaned forward. “Can.. Can I?” He looks down at your lips then back up to your eyes.

You answer him by closing the gap. He can feel as your hands gently run over the back of his head. His arms came up to wrap around your waist.

DogDay melts into your embrace.

When this is all over he can’t wait to see the stars with you.

#poppy playtime #dogday poppy playtime #reader insert #dogday x reader #mild blood and gore #attempted murder #love confessions #first kiss #catnap #poppy #kissy missy #angry outburst #traumatic memories #hour of joy

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b0bthebuilder35 · 2 years

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THIS 👏🏻IS 👏🏻NOT 👏🏻OK👏🏻

Children should not have to live like this!

Where are the parents protesting masks in school because it would traumatize their children? Is THIS not a trauma inducing practice?!

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moonlit-positivity · 3 months

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You're not lazy, you're depressed. If you were lazy then you would still be able to get up and do the things that needed to be done. The fact that you can't move at all is actually something called "freeze response" and it is a part of your nervous system fight/flight/freeze/fawn. This means your body does not feel safe enough to move. You are literally "frozen" in fear. Let's stop telling people they are lazy for this and start recognizing it for what it is- survival.

Want tips for breaking freeze response? Check out my blog. Happy healing 😊

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desultory-suggestions · 1 year

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It is normal not to be able to recall your trauma. Your memories may be foggy, disorganized, inaccessible, or blank. You are not wrong, you are not dramatic, you are not dishonest. The mind is very powerful, and it will take measures to protect us for fear and harm even if we don’t choose to. Take the time you need to heal what you can feel even if you cannot name it.

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marvelsgirl616 · 19 days

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When Anissa showed up:

When she slammed mark into the ground and was on top of him… (having read the comics my heart sank having flashbacks to the comics)

#robert kirkman invincible #invincible comic #invincible season 2 #invincible show #mark grayson #omfg #traumatic memories #Anissa Viltrum #invincible spoilers #invincible #invincible s2

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needfantasticstories · 3 months

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Day 1: Helpless

TW: divine possession, slight body horror, traumatic flashbacks

Characters: Sun (Linked Universe), Hylia (The Legend of Zelda)

Divine Disturbance

(Connects to Hidden Heroes)

Zelda lay in bed in her Knight’s Academy dorm, her eyes refusing to stay closed. She stroked the remlit curled at her side and stared at the rafters obscured in shadows above. Only a patch of waning moonlight from the window, pale and ghostly, outlined her room.

She scratched gently behind the remlit’s floppy ear, smiling despite a twinge of jealousy at its easy rest. She knew, from seventeen years of existing as a mortal girl, that she needed sleep. It would heal her body from the day spent sparring, studying, and running around the islands as a representative of the village council. She needed the rest, but the divine within her resented it.

DO NOT LOSE A MOMENT! ARISE!

Not again… Hylia, we’re mortal now. We need to rest. Like in the crystal, Zelda thought to her former self, to the enormous ghost that lingered within her. The goddess seemed to grow more persistent every day. She dragged Zelda’s thoughts and emotions into another life at the smallest hints of her old one. A breath of mint or rosemary might send her dancing as she had in courts of old before her feet realized they were moving. It was rather embarrassing during lunch in the dining hall, but luckily Link and Groose began to clap along, causing Pipit and Karane and Fletch to tap their feet somewhat hesitantly too, and by the time Zelda became fully aware of her presence at breakfast and not the leading a Royal Ball, her friends had appeased the questioning stares with generous laughter, as if it was all a joke they had planned. Link bowed and led her to her history tutor before anyone could ask for an explanation, so it faded into another silly story the others would sometimes joke about at gatherings. Silly, spontaneous Zelda. She did not appreciate the changes in her reputation. She’d rather remain known as “level-headed” and “determined,” especially as an aspiring member of the Council.

She didn’t mind the changes brought on by the goddess’ knowledge when she finally beat both Link and Captain Eagus at sparring, to everyone’s surprise. Link guessed rightly that the goddess had something to do with it, and he’d beamed at her when she’d confirmed his theory in private. His eyes, so proud and trusting and full of admiration, made her heart ache. Who did he love, really?

More recently, a simple tune hummed by Peatrice as she passed on the road had sent Zelda’s mind into a panic, racing to the edge to leap after her hero. The Song of Mourning, she knew all of the sudden, the last she’d sung after… he’s struggling down there all alone and DEAD DEAD DEAD! She’d raced to the skydock and leapt, desperate to find him in the clouds, ready to soar on her own wings, blade at the ready to face Demise and stop him but knowing it was already too late.

Luckily, she’d come to herself as the wind whipped her shawl over her eyes. She’d resheathed her sword and called her loftwing, Indigo, to catch her before plunging into the cloud barrier where no loftwing could follow.

She grew afraid of the goddess, for the first time, and prayed to her past self that it would not happen again. The power had hummed like an earthquake inside her, and she hoped it understood.

Most of the time, if she could manage to close herself from the tides of emotions, she could get by. She could act normal. After all, how could she explain?

Gondo would present the council with the newest set of repaired robots and explain about the wonder of wires and circuits, and she could pretend she didn’t remember how to infuse a consciousness within a machine with just the right spell, if only she could access Hylia’s magic at will. It would mean nothing to them.

When Link would wonder about his predecessor, how could she spoil his day by expressing the overwhelming love she felt for a man a thousand years in his grave, a stranger to them both, while feeling that same love for the young man at her side, as if they were the same? How could she explain that she would always see their faces overlapping?

When she’d burst into tears of joy at finding a large seed on the Surface, how could she explain the faint memories of Deku trees planted and nurtured in places she knew by heart but would never find again? She wasn’t even sure if they came before her era, or after. How could she explain so much with so little?

She couldn't, so she didn’t.

Instead, she found ways to explain away the strange, divine impulses as excitement, silly curiosity, a flight of fancy, or beginner’s luck.

Link. Groose. Father. They knew she was the goddess’s mortal form, but they would never understand. So she bore the goddess alone.

Fear swelled in deep corners of her mind. Trapped. Small. Constricted. Her head stung from the pressure of condensed sunlight burning, burning, burning within it. The Sacred Springs had been excruciating but short-lived, and the Goddess had settled quickly after each cleansing, even if the goddess’s commands frustrated Zelda long after. Now, she was a mouse that had swallowed a dragon, a divine beast of dazzling power, perpetually in motion and raging, and Zelda was about to crack at any moment. Her heart beat like a drum against her ribs. Delicate webs of nerves danced and screamed at every turn of the divine mind as it struggled to comprehend this new world through the bars of a tiny mortal prison.

Sensing the danger, the power began to ease: hot but no longer blazing; pounding, but no longer bursting.

Zelda gasped, able to move on her own once more. She rolled out of her smothering, feather-filled blanket and settled flat on her back, letting the night air cool her. One hand buried in the fur of the fluffy animal still sleeping beside her and another hand pressed against her own chest, as the thud thud thud of two mismatched hearts reverberated in her palms. At last, her own thundering cacophony began to steady and slow. She breathed in and out, measuring each breath evenly.

I am still me. I am the same Zelda. Just…changed…

She addressed her thoughts to the divine ghost within. I need to sleep, Dear Hylia.

DEITIES DO NOT SLEEP.

The declaration wrenched her eyes open. She startled so sharply that her little remlit companions yowled, shot out of the nest of blankets, then scrambled under the bed.

Zelda sighed, and wiped sweat from her brow as her heartbeat picked up again. She longed to agree with the goddess. So often, sleep brought breathtaking, confusing, or nightmarish memories that left her heart longing or broken, her eyes red and swollen from weeping from the memory of loss and failure and a world nearly destroyed. Beneath it all an ocean of rage and regret: THEY ARE DEAD! THEY ARE HURTING! THEY ARE LOST! HE IS DEAD, HE IS DEAD, HE IS DEAD! HOW CAN A GODDESS OF TIME BE LATE? CELESTIAL MOTHERS, HOW DID I FAIL HIM?

The goddess supplied herself a furious answer, the waves of rage swelling, and it set Zelda’s heart racing again. I TOLERATED AND IGNORED DEMISE FOR TOO LONG. I COMMANDED THE HERO TO FIGHT BEFORE HE WAS READY. I FEARED MY SHADOW, AND MADE HIM FACE IT IN MY STEAD.

Please, stop! Quiet quiet quiet! Zelda begged the divine as it threatened to drown her. What mortal could bear such rage? Such despair? Such love? Such hatred, all at once? There was nowhere for it to go, and she could not contain it.

She tried to turn aside, to cry into her pillow, but she couldn’t move. Helpless, she realized tonight was far different than other memories. Vivid to the point of blindness, she saw a flash of light as the might of Fi’s power shot up to the sky, but her wielder needed her! NOW! Zelda…no, Hylia was falling, not soaring and barely controlled, yet still so far away from him, too weak to simply appear at his side. Tears streamed NO! TOO LATE! This despair was no longer a swell, but an electric shock. Zelda seized up at the sight of those dead-white eyes on the hero’s beautiful, serene face, and when the vision closed at last she gasped and curled tightly on herself. She had sensed every vein and sinew in the man’s body, and in what order they stopped functioning. No one should know so much about the death of another, nor should she so love a stranger, no matter how like her own Link he appeared.

The self-loathing of a goddess was more than she could bear.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, and they shot open again. And again. And again. The visions crowded her room. She cried for the goddess’s hurt, for her frustration at mortal limits, for memories she did not want to see, for the goddess’s anger at being trapped as a mortal, and her own anger at being swallowed by the divine. But she could not move, her body completely in the hands of the goddess, and her grief was still rising higher. If she could, she’d have screamed in agony.

Link is not dead! Her usual first line of defense from these divine, dark thoughts seemed so small tonight, and made no difference. She tried again. He’s alive! Let me rest!

Link is alright. He’s safe. You saved him!

Zelda’s assurances pushed back as weak as a breath compared to the goddess’s tempest. Usually, it was enough to redirect the momentum toward happier thoughts, and then the goddess would grace her with more pleasant or helpful memories.

Not tonight. Her assurances only seemed to exacerbate the goddess’s fury and terror. More memories flooded her, new and unfamiliar. Knights swiping blades to cut her down, giant spiders crawling closer, pale dead hands reaching from the floor, and the silhouette of a man, his laughter cruel and grating, as he stood victorious over a dark shape on the floor. A crown glistened in the space between them, and—

Please, let me sleep! she begged as another swell of jumbled images and sensations and feelings too complex to parse threatened to crash over her and sweep her away into oblivion. Her head throbbed and grew feverishly hot with the effort to keep herself in one piece as her mind pulled a thousand directions at once. Excruciating pain and exhaustion and the fierce will to live and the threat of death all wrapped in one overwhelming feeling. She was being consumed.

WE ARE SAFE! She barely kept from screaming her thoughts out loud. THE WORLD IS SAFE!

HE IS NOT SAFE! the storm shrieked back at her. THE WORLD IS NOT SAFE!

She knew that Link slept in the room almost below hers, just one off, and by this hour he would be snoring by now, safe and sound. Demise and his blade were dead.

He’s here! It’s over! It’s done! There’s nothing more you can do! Haven't you done enough?

The goddess’s wrath slowed, and the storm became a whispered song of hope at the thought Zelda had conjured of Link, safe and asleep.

And then, nothing. The storm dissolved. She’d finally shut up.

Only whisper’s of Indigo’s dreams remained, chasing skytails, mercifully free of the Goddess’s storms.

Zelda drew a slow, deep breath as her palms lifted off her sweaty hair. Has it truly stopped? Her hands lingered by her ears, ready to resume the desperate hold on her aching head. But nothing disturbed her thoughts now, and her room was starkly quiet in the pallid moonlight.

Zelda sighed in relief. At last, she could rest.

She retrieved the down-filled blanket she’d kicked onto the floor. Autumn air chilled the night, and she tucked the blanket close around her, and wiped her brow with her sleeve. Ignoring the sweat drying on her skin, she basked in the quiet and calm. Her body relaxed, at its limit. Each night, for three nights, she’d wrestled with the Goddess, and she was done.

Hylia, please be at peace, she prayed, hoping to keep the goddess appeased. It is over. Demise is gone. You saved everyone. Your hero is alive.

Even without the goddess’s urging, she would always watch over Link. Not that many threats remained: a few monsters on the Surface they’d face together, nosy questions about their time on the surface, rude comments about his lightning scars. Not that he couldn’t deal with them on his own, but his state had been fragile the first month, and she still struggled not to hover.

She owed him that much: from her failure as the goddess to her failure as a friend he’d trusted. At Hylia’s bidding, she’d thrown him into danger. The goddess had been only a blessing back then, and who was she to question divinity? She would not make that mistake again.

But Link had volunteered after he knew the truth, and he’d faced the demon that had hunted her and her people thousands of years ago. He was just a boy, barely seventeen, and he’d saved her and the world from the jaws of Demise.

She owed him the world. And all he asked for was her friendship. Not her love, or her favor, but her company.

Her mind grew heavy and thick, full of pleasant dreams: playing in a fairy fountain with tiny sisters, taking in the healing magic and soft glowing light.

Do not sleep, daughter of my soul. Take up my blade. Tear the monster asunder. Break him across the ages. More must be done. Finish it.

The new thought jostled her awake. Zelda groaned, but paused. Something was different. The goddess felt calm and aware, like a remlit ready to pounce rather than a storm. Why had the idea come after she’d already felt her mind close to the deity only moments ago?

Zelda sat up and moved to the window. Above Skyloft floated the silhouette of Sir Hawke, and she knew whoever had nightwatch with him flew below the islands, ready to catch anyone Sir Hawke might have missed.

Nothing else stirred. Her head swam as she stood, protesting at being awake for two days and counting. Her joints felt like chu jelly, weakening while she stood. Is this long enough? Are you finally resting?

Stillness followed. Optimistic, she returned to bed.

Silence. Blessed silence.

Quietness settled over Zelda’s body again as she burrowed in downy covers. At last, she sighed in relief. Within seconds she lay on the brink of sleep.

A yell from downstairs shocked her upright. She recognized the tenor of that voice.

Link.

#linked universe #linked universe fanfic #skipwrites #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump #whump fic #whump #lu sun #hylia #goddess hylia #febuwhumpday1 #possession #traumatic memories #slight body horror

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months

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Omg, your response was so amazing and helpful 😭❤ Thank you for taking the time to really get into all that. 💞 It also seems to have kinda sparked a conversation arround it, which is awesome! 😁

And ohhhhh ya, the religious trauma and gilt are real 😳🙄

You mentioned you have more to say if we want to hear it? I, for one, would LOVE to hear anything else you have to say on the topic! ❤

-🫖

Hi hi hi 🫖 anon!!

{Let’s Talk Religious Guilt and Trauma}

I am so glad that my response—Let’s Talk Healthy Solo Sex— was helpful and informative for you!! Of course!!! I want to give every ask and every anon the time and respect that they deserve ♥️♥️ And yes, I love that it sparked more of a conversation!! I’m so proud of you for reaching out and starting these discussions, anon!!! 🥰

I most definitely have more to say on the topic. For one, you can check out Let’s Talk Penetrative Sex and Let’s Talk Trauma in Relationships, which both stemmed from our conversation! And then there’s this response, fyi it will be another longer one 😊

*sigh* Yes, religious guilt and trauma are most definitely real. And those of experiences and feelings are so valid. Trauma of any kind is no joke. If you have any religious trauma or trauma of any other kind, I highly recommend that you seek a professional’s help.

So… What is Religious Trauma and Guilt?

A general definition for Religious Trauma is… “Religious trauma can happen when an individual’s religious experience has been damaging, abusive, degrading, stressful, or traumatic. When a religious experience is traumatic, it can damage your emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health”. Check out Cohesive Therapy NYC’s article on Religious Trauma for more detailed information! For an article that goes more into Religious Guilt, check out Considering Counseling’s article on Religious Trauma and Guilt…! ♥️

Religious trauma and guilt are especially tricky beasts… Many twisted religious teachings and persuasion is very cult like. (That’s not to say that all are, there are definitely less twisted, healthier religions and practices) But the ones that are rotten and manipulative, they dig deep into your core beliefs, especially if you’re a child, and they replace your identity with the identity of the religion/church/cult.

So, how do you deal with religious trauma and guilt?

Firstly, as I said above, seek professional help (I recommend an EMDR specialist for trauma—EMDR is a type of therapy that works to restructure traumatic memories in your brain)

On your own accord, Processing, Accepting, and then Healing is the overall goal. Talking it out and processing your experience and feelings with a trusted person can be helpful for some. I find that talking to someone who has also had religious trauma or guilt to be even more helpful, because of how they can relate. Sometimes journaling/writing about it can be another helpful tool. The key is to find some way to express those emotions, to get them out of you.

Personally, my own story is that I have both religious trauma and guilt, but I definitely struggle more with my religious trauma. I was raised in a Catholic school and an Interfaith-Christian household. We moved around a lot, and so I went to many Christian churches like Non-Denominational, Baptist, Presbyterian, Catholic, and Southern Christian/Baptist. After the Catholic primary school, I moved to a Christian Charter school for six years. At that age, all my activities were based around my church and religious school; safe to say, religion was a very big part of my childhood. When Covid hit, I had had enough and I used the social distancing and the lockdown as a way to disconnect from the church. I effectively stopped going to church in 2020. I then took that time to explore my religious trauma and guilt, and this was where my healing journey began.

Everyone’s journey is different, and everyone’s journey is valid. ♥️

I began my work with my CBT therapist (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy— most therapy is CBT or Freudian). I found that most of my religious guilt was tied to my sexuality, and that I really struggled with being gay and being religious. So I explored that. I talked about it with lots of people, including my therapist, trusted family members, and other trusted religious people. I found that finding others who struggled with sexuality and religion was extremely helpful, it made me feel validated and not alone in the struggle. Today, I am way further along with my religious guilt than I was 3 years ago, but I definitely still have more to process, accept, and heal from.

Next there was my religious trauma. For this, I started with my CBT therapy as well. It was helpful, but after 3 years, I have run into a wall… It depends on the intensity of your trauma, because “little t” trauma is more easily resolved through CBT, whereas “capital T” trauma requires the neural network in your brain. My trauma is more “capital T”, and so I found that CBT therapy only helped me so much. This is why I recommend EMDR therapy for trauma. EMDR therapy targets restricting your neural network, working out the traumatic memories.

Everyone’s experience is different, so what worked for me and what didn’t work might be different for you, and that’s okay. This is only my experience. But I hope that it was a little helpful, and that you at least feel less alone in your feelings. Because they are so valid. ♥️♥️

So yea, those are my key points for religious trauma and guilt…! Hope this was somewhat relatable, helpful, and informative 🥰 Don’t hesitate to reach out and chat with me, ask or dm! Hope you have a lovely day/night!! 💞💞

Talk with Me ❤️‍🔥

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diveintomydream · 7 months

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I regret it so much that i didnt killed myself a long time ago.

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whumpy-gems · 2 years

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Super underrated panic attack scene from the Uncanny Counter.

#uncanny counter #asian whump #whump #comfort #asian male #kdrama #panic attack #traumatic memories #poor So Mun 🥺

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nothing0fnothing · 5 months

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Did any of you have narcissistic abusers who ruined things?

My page is about narcissistic abuse from the perspective that my parents were the narcissistic abusers, and they loved a opportunity to ruin something I cared about.

Christmas, birthdays, holidays, school events or drama productions I was in. They'd pick a fight and assault me physically either hours before or hours after. Day ruined. On Christmas one year my dad threw me down the stairs of our holiday home over a croissant. And then I had to pull myself together and fix my face so I could deal with all the merriment when our extended family showed up for dinner. Everyone else's day was fine, but mine and my sisters, ruined.

Treasured items like notebooks, photo frames, nick knacks, toys or mementos, especially if they were bought out of my pocket money or gifted to me by a family member, if they were in a bad mood it was things like that that'd get broken, thrown or damaged. I remember days after my birthday my presents from my party getting smashed in a rage in front of me.

Friendships, mentorships or just any genuine or good relationships I had. If I was close with a teacher or a mentor they'd pull me out of classes, if I became close with my friends parents or other adult family members my mom would go into a jealous rage and become violent to really discourage further interactions with them. She would manufacture drama in my friend groups too. I remember being 10 years old when she was called out by a parent of a friend of mine bc the level of interaction she was having with my friend group and causing upset to 4 literal children was weird and inappropriate.

Compliments, awards evenings, after parties, theatre productions and basically anything that was celebrating or supporting me. She always felt times like this were the opportune moments to bring up some unrelated way that I'd failed. You got an academic award for writing? But they haven't seen how bad you are at maths. You produced and directed that entire school play? This is a great time to bring up how untidy your bedroom is. An auntie says my dress is pretty? Loudly scold her in front of me for ignoring my obvious weight problem. Moment ruined.

From a young age I learned to not seem too excited about anything. If I enjoyed something or was proud of something. It was second nature to get all those positive feelings out somewhere else before taking the news to my parents. If I had a good time at a friends house or really liked a present I knew to keep it to myself because it would be so easy for them to ruin it for me in the future.

#narcissistic abuse #raised by narcissists #toxic parents #vent post #toxic mom #complex trauma #parental abuse #dysfunctional family #childhood trauma #dysfunctional household #traumatic experience #trauma recovery #traumatic memories #actually abused

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ksbbb · 1 year

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. “Don’t focus on them. Just focus on me.” Thiam 😘

Focus (thiam)

It’s been way too long for Liam to be feeling this way, or he thinks it is, but Mason argues with him about it and still tries to convince him that it’s okay. That sometimes when the brain deals with a traumatic situation then it’s only normal to still have negative feelings about something. Or about someone and different places. It’s not really something he expected to deal with so soon, but seeing his former lacrosse buddies from his other school, the ones that locked him in a cage at the zoo, and threw lacrosse balls at him, caused a mild panic to set in. Then the thought of almost losing control here during the war doesn’t help him any.

He can rationalize that they most likely don’t even remember him, and he is a werewolf now, so the odds of them being able to trap him in a cage again, is very unlikely, but his mind still hasn’t completely caught up to his rational side of thinking yet. He keeps telling himself to remain calm, keep his breathing normal, and to ignore any feeling of anxiety coursing though him. He tells himself this, but he still can’t force his mind to catch up, and he’s staring to feel himself shift as they draw closer.

“What’s going on?” He hears Corey asks, it sounds far away, almost through a muffled door, as if his body isn’t here right now, and he wishes more than anything that he could make himself forget all about his time here.

“Am I…I don’t know. How long does it take to get a drink?” Mason starts looking around frantically, peering into the crowd, as he starts to panic almost as much as Liam, and starts rapidly texting on his phone. It causes Liam to panic more and he starts to hyperventilate.

“We did tell Theo to get us like 6 drinks because we didn’t want to have to go back.” Corey’s voice sounds high, panic rising in his voice, as Liam starts to feel his claws poking through his fingertips. “Oh..he’s not going to shift here is he?” Corey latches onto Liam’s shoulder, his fingernails sinking into him, and if he was able to focus on something other than the constant memory bombarding him, he would welcome the anchoring touch of a friend, but he can’t find anything to center himself.

That night burns into his memory like a fire blazing in the dark, and it haunts him to his very core when he remembers the pain, along with the embarrassment of being caged in, and having to hold in tears from the constant yelling from his peers. Blaming him for the loss of game, because of his IED. His IED that caused him to lose it on his former coaches car.

“Liam…”

His fangs slide over his tongue, and he can almost taste blood, smell the fear from his own scent, and his entire body starts to shake from the control of holding in his wolf, and holding in his shift. He’s not a new werewolf anymore and Scott would tell him to use his anchor, but he’s not sure he has one anymore.

He desperately bites down on his lip, drawing blood, and anger starts to boil over as notices one of them laugh about something. His erratic breathing starts to catch in his throat, and he’s slipping. Slipping out of Mason and Corey’s grasp, his own mind screaming at him to do something, anything but let them get away with it. Is that his wolf, or is it him wanting to shift? He can’t find the difference anymore.

“Liam…”

A low growl leaves his throat, a silence surrounds him, he’s lost focus on anything else, he can’t hear, can’t see anything but his former teammates standing in front of him. His skin is itching. Clawing at him to let himself shift, allow his own fear and anxiety to overpower him and take over. To not allow it to happen again.

“Liam…” A hand catches his just as he’s about to lash out, his eye flickers with yellow, and he turns around to roar, but comes face to face with Theo. His hand is pried apart and Theo sighs, gently running his hand over Liam’s claw marks. It soothes him, and he starts to notice more people around him. He looks around him to find his former teammates.

“Focus. Don’t focus on them. Just focus on me.” Theo appears in his line of vision, shifting him gently so he can face him. Holding his shoulder gently, and still running his hand over the wounds on his hand that have started healing.

A small smile plays on Theo’s lips as Liam blinks a few times and starts to breath normally again. Theo leads him over to a bench, and he sits down, his anxiety starting to fade, and he is handed a drink to sip on.

“I was gone for about ten minutes.” Theo ponders to himself, and he playfully pushes Liam’s shoulder, as he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Yeah. Well…maybe next time we can do something other than the zoo.” He takes Theo’s hand in his, gently running his fingertips over his palms, and decides that maybe he might have an anchor.

#answered #waterloo #thiam #teen wolf thiam #teen wolf #theo raeken #liam dunbar x theo raeken #liam dunbar #send asks #writer prompts #angsty but soft at the end #Liam pov #traumatic memories #thiam fanfic #theo and liam #short fiction

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