#implied ptsd

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?

(( 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 wasn't because the weather was getting colder, cold enough where the healed bones ached and old scars stung, and it wasn't the longer nights and darker rooms. It wasn't that heavy weight in his chest. It was the avoidance.

He walked around base like his name sake, turning quickly if he heard a scottish accent in a room, or if he heard Garrick's tell-tale wheeze, laughing to whatever Soap had said. If he would rush up to Price's door at night, hand raised to knock, he would freeze, the dark rushing in, the cold numbing him, that stupid, stupid weight making his legs feel like jelly, he would just freeze. And the thoughts would rush in. He would curse himself, and sneak back to his room, pretending like Price hadn't heard him, hoping Price would follow him, hate himself for being that pathetic, and lay awake for another night, staring at the ceiling, and wonder what the fuck was he doing.

He wanted his leave for Christmas and he couldn't bear to ask. So when he slunk to Nik's maintenance hangar like a desperate mutt, letting Nikolai talk and talk, he accepted the random friendly invitations the pilot would always toss out.

"One day, Simon. I make you some kulebyaka at my place for holiday supper. Trust me, you'll never want to eat those ORPs again."

"So do it." He said, the first thing he said since greeting the man when he flew in. Nikolai pauses, sticks his head out from behind the helicopter, turning down his music. A shit-eating grin on his face that Simon already regretted.

"You mean it this time? No piss?"

Simon huffs a laugh, rubbing his dry eyes. "It's taking the piss, you know that. And..yeah, I mean it."

Nikolai pauses, and steps out of behind the transmission. He gets a good look at his eyes, and Simon looks away. Nikolai wipes his fingers on a rag as he walks over, clapping a large hand behind his neck, making him jerk forward at the force, eyes narrowed in alarm as Nikolai looks down at him. "Fucking hell, Nik, what?" He spits out, defensive.

His eyes feel too hot, Nik's hand a warm weight, so close, and smelling like sweat and hydraulic fluid. "Come with me. Now." Nikolai says, jostling Simon twice at each terse sentence. Simon tries pushing him off, "Fucking hell, I will, just- get the fuck, Nik. You reek." Like he wasn't about to plant his face against that chest and pass out. Nikolai grins like he can see it, hauling Simon up with his hand. "You look terrible, moy dorogoy, let me treat you." Nik says in that horrible joking tone of his, the pet name sneered with a joyful laugh.

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.

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 ):

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.

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.

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.