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b1ackgh0st · 3 months

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Without You...

TW: Mentions of codependency and eating disorders (The smut is back, hoes)

Poppy has a busy day talking with the leaders of the other tribes. Branch is left at home alone, his brothers off at various places.

The bunker was quiet. Branch had grown used to his brothers being loud and rowdy. The quiet was nice, but something was missing.

Right, Poppy.

All the feral troll had to comfort him was one of her large, dark green and turquoise sweaters and one of her extra blankets that he had stolen. Both carried her sweet scent, one that was intoxicating to him.

But even while hugging the sweater and being wrapped in the blanket, neither provided the same warmth as her.

He was starting to get more and more agitated, his ears drooped as low as they could go, his tail twitching.

With her gone, he hadn't even bothered to leave his bunker, not even getting up to put clothes on. He just slipped Poppy's sweater on, the fuzzy material felt nice against his skin. The hem of the sweater reached his knees.

Branch whined, trying to think of anything other than Poppy. The Bergens? No, he remembered Trollstice. The Village? No, he thought of how well she ruled. His brothers? Nope, he thought of running off to save Floyd with her.

Anything he thought of, there she was. Even the most obscure things, such as rough housing with JD, as he would think about the first time she saw them play fighting.

He hadn't even gotten up to eat. Usually she would come down and wake him up, reminding him that he didn't need to ration his meals or go 2-3 days without food.

Branch hadn't taken his pills, either. He debated on whether he needed to take them, and ultimately sat up to grab the glass of water kn his bedside and swallow four pills consecutively. If he hadn't taken them, she'd have been pissed.

He sat uo when he heard footsteps approaching. The door creaked open and he growled. It turned out to just be Smidge, holding a freshly baked berry pie for him. She briefly explained that Poppy asked her earlier to make sure he had something decent to eat.

She was quick to leave. Branch looked at the warm, delicious-smelling pie in his paws. He didn't waste any time to grab a wooden tray he used to eat in bed from under his bed. He set the pie down, thinking for a moment. He grabbed his emergency fork from his nightstand drawer.

Branch didn't even care that the pie was still pretty warm. Smidge's baked goods were always amazing, especially when Cooper helped.

He dug in, devouring the whole thing within minutes. Branch drank the rest of his water, setting the wooden tray on the floor.

...

Hours later, he finally heard the bunker lift going down. The door opened, revealing Poppy. She held her arms out, and Branch didn't hesitate run over.

She just lifted him up as if he weighed nothing. Sure, her and her sister Viva were freakishly strong, but Branch was thin and small.

He snuggled into her, mumbling about how much he missed her and how much he needed her.

"Awww... You atleast ate and remembered your pills, right?" She asked him, sitting on his bed with the smaller troll in her lap. He nodded.

(SMUT WARNING HERE, LEAVE IF YOU ARE UNCOMFY!)

(BTW, I changed it because I didn't like how Branch just humped her thigh-)

Poppy leaned her head in close to Branch's neck, softly kissing a small scar there. When he didn't react, she licked it.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #trolls poppy #broppy #eating disoder trigger warning #tw ptsd #ftm Branch #codependency #trolls smut #smut

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alittlebitmessedupgirl · 6 months

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pastel-gutz · 6 days

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Not doing hot. Need to make more art.

•

If used anywhere else please credit me

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1heartsickfics · 3 months

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OMG i would die if you wrote a fic for Katniss/Peeta i’ve been on such a big HG kick ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

not sure what you wanted lol but here’s a little ficlet.

TW: ptsd and depictions of vomit

Katniss could always tell when Peeta was having one of those days. Days when his mind played tricks on him and reminded him of all the horrible things that happened.

He’d been restless last night, tossing and turning, getting up a few times and pressing closer against her when he came back. She hadn’t said anything, but held him as he fell back into fitful sleep.

In the morning after making breakfast he’d frozen for a moment, eyes going hazy and unfocused as he gripped the back of his chair. Then it was over and he sat down. She’d given his hand a squeeze and flashed him a sad smile but hadn’t said anything. Sometimes talking about it made it worse.

“I gave you a locket on the beach that day, real or not real?” He asked suddenly.

Even years later, they still played this game to help him when he had the bad days. It helped Katniss to know where his mind was at, what it was showing him. The 2nd hunger games.

“Real,” she said, pulling said locket out from inside of her shirt so it laid on top for him to see.

He nodded, frowning thoughtfully. She waited for another question but he didn’t say anything else. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching across the table to rest her hand on his arm. He wouldn’t look at her.

“They took me away from you, real or not real?”

“Real,” Katniss answered quietly.

“I was supposed to protect you Katniss, I failed you,” he said shakily, finally meeting her eyes. She could see that he was moments away from crying, tears welling up in his eyes. “You did protect me. I’m the one who failed to protect you,” she shook her head, reaching forward to cup his face in her hands, wiping his now falling tears away with her thumb.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, starting to shake. He shook his head rapidly, eyes fluttering as he fell into a flashback. “Katniss!” He shouted, lost in the memory.

“It’s not real Peeta, you’re having a flashback. Just focus on my voice,” she got up out of her chair and moved to stand next to his chair, wrapping her arms around him as he shook.

“No! No you can’t take me! You can’t-“ he thrashed in her arms, cutting himself off with a sob and a cry of pain.

“You’re safe my love, I’ve got you. That’s all over now,” Katniss continued, tightening her arms as he fought against her. After a moment he went limp, head lolling back against her.

“Katniss… no, where’s Katniss?” He mumbled, limbs jerking against the restraints in his mind. “I’m right here Peeta, just come back to me now,” Katniss said softly, loosening her grip on him to run her fingers through his hair. It always calmed him down and helped to ground him in reality.

He gasped, going stiff for a moment before his eyes flew open. His dazed eyes darted around the room, filled with panic, before the settled on Katniss, who was now crouched in front of him. She placed her hands on his thighs, proving to him that she was real.

“Katniss, I-“ he broke off, suddenly pitching to one side to vomit onto their kitchen floor. “Oh Peeta," Katniss sighed in sympathy, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he was sick.

"M'sorry," Peeta mumbled, turning fully to the side and hunching forward even more to put his head between his knees.

"Hush," Katniss waved off his apology. "Are you back with me?" she asked.

Peeta didn't say anything, but nodded from his slumped position.

"You know where we are?" she pressed, wanting to make sure.

"Home,"

"Good. Are you going to pass out?" she asked.

"Don't think so," he shook his head.

Katniss stood from her crouched position and grabbed the chair she'd been sitting in before Peeta's episode to pull it closer to his. She wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him up straight so he was leaned back on the chair. His face was pale, eyes glassy, tear stains running down his cheeks. She reached forward and wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her shirt.

"That was a bad one huh?" she asked quietly.

"It felt so real..." he nodded.

"I know, but that's all over now I promise. We're here, together, and we're safe," she reassured him, knowing that he needed to hear her say it.

"Thank you," he said, forcing a smile. He sounded exhausted, like even the effort of saying those two words was almost too much. He hadn't had one of these episodes in a long time. Certainly not one this bad. It made sense that it had taken so much out of him.

"Let's go lay down," Katniss said, standing up and holding her hands out to help him up. He grabbed them, letting her pull him up and to their bedroom. They crawled back into bed, even though they'd only been up for a couple of hours. Peeta laid his head on her chest, her arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight. He felt safe again.

"You love me, real or not real?" he whispered after a few minutes of silence.

"A million times real,"

#hunger games #katniss and peeta #hurt/comfort #ptsd #tw: vomit #vomit trigger warning #tw: ptsd #mockingjay #catching fire

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bvnniebog · 3 months

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what kind of god would allow this to happen to a child?

#sa tw #csa tw #csa vent #csa survivor #csa vent art #sa trigger warning #vent account #vent art #trauma art #venting #actually traumatized #actual ptsd #trauma cw #trauma coping #Traumacore #Traumacore art #heavy vent #My vent art

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randodeadpool · 1 year

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GOTG3 and Survivor's Guilt

OMG

OMFG

I saw GOTG3 and I laughed and cried so much.

I have so much I want to say about this movie. As someone with PTSD, I wasn't triggered - I was drawn in and for once I felt understood. The movie captures: trauma, surviving, loss, violence, abuse, survivors guilt and so much more. It helped me feel things about what happened to me in the past - and not have a flashback or negative, but to think of it and just observe it and identify with rocket thru it. I was able to think that happened to me too - not with pain, fear, anger, but I felt connected to Rocket LIlla Teefs and Floor. I felt connected to my friends and fam that I lost. I understood what Rocket was feeling. I loved when he didn't kill his abuser when he had the chance - I felt connected to when I confronted my abuser/who killed my dad. I didn't want to be like her. I wanted to not become who she was and wanted me to be. I loved that the other guardians supported him when he made this decision, and I felt I wish I'd had that. I liked the reunion he had in the white space.

I love the rest of the movie, but these parts are what really spoke to me, and I recommend it for anyone who wants to see a great adventure with favorite characters - but to also be able to process some of their own trauma and feel better about themselves for surviving, healing and thriving.

#gotg3 #trigger warning - abuse #ptsd #complex ptsd #survivors guilt #rocket racoon and groot #survive #thrive #healing

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pianokantzart · 1 year

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If You Can’t Stand The Heat

One-shot fic. Don’t know if it qualifies as fluff/angst or hurt/comfort, but ptsd is definitely happening.

Mario and Luigi settle into a new home in The Mushroom Kingdom shortly after their victory over Bowser. Both try their best to embrace the new normal, but both have their own struggles wrapping their heads around everything they just survived.

Now posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46686196

______________________________________

Luigi never had a kitchen to himself before. The moment he and his brother declared themselves homeowners, his entire family, near and far, pitched in to make sure they had everything they needed. The kitchen especially was stocked with all their hearts desired, as everyone in the family had a spare something: cutlery, spatulas, measuring spoons, cutting boards, cheese graters, rolling pins, crock pots, meat tenderizers, bread machines, pitchers, pots, pans, knives, blenders, choppers, slicers, mixers, grinders, peelers, juicers, shakers… Mario tried to explain that they could stock their own kitchen– the plumbing business was going great, they had money now, but nobody listened. In their own loud, pushy, overbearing way, they only wanted to make sure he and his brother were taken care of. They were family, after all.

While Luigi had always pitched in to help cook for big events and celebrations back in Brooklyn, the kitchen was his mother’s domain, kept pristine, efficient, and orderly. She was an unstoppable machine that churned out three multi-course meals a day, all made from scratch. She worked hard, poured her whole heart into every detail, and always made sure everyone was fed and taken care of. Luigi was often told– sometimes condescendingly– he took after his mother, but to him this was no insult. Quite the opposite. At last he had a kitchen of his own, and though he was cooking for a household of two rather than nine it felt like no less of a responsibility, especially given the way Mario had been for the past few days. To anyone who hadn’t lived with Mario his entire life, he seemed fine. Better than fine. He behaved like his usual self, head raised high and a spring in his step, ready to take on the world. Nobody else knew how little sleep he was getting, sitting up in bed while looking back and forth between his brother and the window like a newly-hired guard dog, waiting for the worst. Nobody else saw how his whole body shifted into a fighting stance at the slightest hint of trouble, the worry in his eyes every time Luigi stepped away for longer than a minute.

For as long as Luigi could remember, Mario treated his own life with reckless abandon while treating Luigi’s like it was more valuable than the world itself. It was only two weeks ago that they nearly lost each other, and then found each other, and then saved each other by the skin of their teeth. Luigi, feeling a little guilty, was dead set on seeing to it that all was made right again. He was happy to stick close to his brother for as long as needed, stay up talking for long hours into the night, and manage the plumbing business whenever Mario finally felt calm enough to fall asleep (no matter what time of day it was). But more than anything he kept their new house clean and organized, intent on ensuring every square inch of it truly felt like home– a safe haven where nothing could hurt them.

Of course, their first home-cooked meal would be a major milestone, and what better way to launch their kitchen than with an old-fashioned Italian pizza? Luigi layered the sauce and the mozzarella on the freshly stretched dough while the oven preheated, singing “Che La Luna” to himself while Mario sat in the living room, trying to beat the first boss of Kid Icarus.

“You sure you don’t want any help, Luigi?” “I said I’ve got this!” Luigi called back, pausing his singing as he added fresh basil leaves and a sprinkle of salt. “I’m almost done. Dinner in five!”

Luigi plucked up the pizza peel by handle and headed toward the oven, pleased with his handiwork. He picked the tune back where he left off, taking a moment to twirl proudly in his apron as he crossed the kitchen floor. “C' 'na luna mezz'u mare Mamma mia m'a maritare!…” He carefully held his creation in his right hand as he leaned down and opened the oven door. “Figlia mia a cu te dare Mamma mia pensace-”

The blast of heat hit him. Luigi suddenly stopped singing. He had been so lost in his own thoughts… he didn’t even expect the oven to feel like this, five hundred degrees fahrenheit slamming against his cheeks like a heavy blow. Blindsided by the sensation, an uncontrollable tremor slowly overtook him, the pizza he had so carefully prepared falling out of his hands, clattering to the tile floor.

“Lu! You okay?” Luigi didn’t hear Mario’s voice. The comforting presence one room over disappeared under an ocean of fear that crashed down upon him, suffocating him. The cozy kitchen, the golden light of evening streaming through the open window, and the smell of yeast and flour evaporated under ash and sulfur, boiling magma lapping at his feet and red-hot iron bending beneath his hands. His heart pounded so hard he felt like it was about to burst, blood rushing to his head and turning his mind inside out while it desperately attempted to grasp reality… This wasn’t real! It was over! He was safe! He was home! He… Heat. He was trapped. He was burning. Luigi leapt back from the oven, hitting himself against the island table as he fell. Hard stone, sharp claws, bony hands, crushing scales, falling debris. Heat. Oppressive, inescapable as death.

“Mario!” Luigi screamed his brother’s name on instinct, unaware he was already in the doorway, rushing to his side.

“Luigi! what’s wrong?” Mario took hold of his brother. Luigi tried to wriggle out of his grasp as though his life depended on it. He shook violently, pressing his hands tightly to his face as he screamed again, voice cracking with terror and desperation.

“Mario!”

“I’m here Lu! I’ve got you!” With some effort, Mario managed to force Luigi’s hands away from his face. He held Luigi’s cheeks and looked into his eyes– they were wide, tearful, looking past everything toward some undisclosed horror in the middle distance. At last they shifted, returning to the present world, settling upon the face in front of him. He shivered terribly, his breathing shallow, his brow soaked in sweat as recognition finally dawned on him. “… Mario?”

“I’ve got you.” Mario pulled Luigi close, pressing their foreheads together as they sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a mess of trampled dough and scattered flour. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Mario repeated softly, “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

________________

That night, they had ice cream for dinner. Mario stood in the living room in front of the coffee-table-turned-dessert-bar, and split a tub of butterscotch-caramel between two dishes, topping them with mounds of whipped cream, sprinkles, and cherries. Luigi sat on the nearby couch, wrapped in a quilt, watching his brother divvy out the icecream from a carton that still had the smudged remnants of “Mario’s! Do not touch!” written on the side in sharpie, hastily scratched out at the last minute.

“You want pecans too?” Mario asked, already popping open the tin. Luigi nodded, tightening the blanket a little further around his shoulders. His hands still shivered as he took the bowl from his brother. He was quiet for a moment, taking a few bites of the ice cream, fighting down another wave of tears that tried to bubble to the surface even now that the worst of the attack had left him. He was miserable. Exhausted. Defeated. “I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t.” Mario sat on the couch, shoulder-to-shoulder against his brother while holding his sundae in his lap. “This is normal, I think. I mean... you went through a lot.”

“You didn’t fall apart like this.” Luigi whined, “You went through a lot too.” “What I went through is different.” Mario retorted, stirring his sundae into a brown, chocolatey slurry with his spoon, “I wasn’t alone like you were. Even from the first moment I landed in The Mushroom Kingdom I had Toad watching my back. You didn’t have anyone.”

Luigi didn’t say anything, he just looked at his older brother. Mario was right, but he didn’t like how guilty he looked while saying it. It wasn’t his fault that they got ripped in separate directions, it wasn’t his fault they ended up where they ended up. He did everything he could. He did amazing, all considering.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mario asked, breaking the silence between them. “You know… what happened to you while we were apart?”

Luigi took a bite of his ice cream to buy himself time to consider his response. The answer was no, of course, even though Luigi knew talking about it would be good for him. He dreaded the thought of putting his experience into words. Even in the daylight hours, when all was well and the world was as it should be, merely thinking about The Dark Lands made his chest hurt and his hair stand on end. “Can I talk about it tomorrow?” “You can talk about it whenever you like,” Mario assured. He reached his free hand over to Luigi’s shoulder and tugged him into a playful side hug. “You’ve been here for me Lu, but don’t forget I’m here for you too! and I’m gonna keep being here, every step of the way. That’s a promise.”

Luigi smiled. Tears welled up in his eyes, far from the fearful tears that had plagued him moments before. “Mario…” Luigi set his ice cream down on the coffee table in front of him, rubbed his tears away on the palm of his hand, and plucked his little-big brother up into a bear hug. Mario barely had enough time to put his own ice cream down safely before being yanked into the embrace. “…We’re a mess.” Luigi chuckled, sounding happy at last. The shivering was almost gone, his breathing was steady, and his heartbeat was almost normal. Mario noted each of these things while he was pressed against his brother, and couldn’t help but smile as well. He’d be okay. Whether Luigi knew it or not, he was strong as either of them. It would take a bit of time, but they were going to be okay.

“Yeah.” Mario laughed, resting his chin against his brother’s shoulder, “we sure are.”

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #mario #luigi #domestic luigi is my weakness #and so is hugging #trigger warning for panic attacks #and ptsd #Just two boys loving and supporting each other through their trauma #mario brothers #super mario brothers #my writing #fanfic

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weighted-hearts · 3 months

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I hate when people say “ you don’t look anorexic.” Like it’s a look and not a mental disorder. 6% of people with eating disorders are actually underweight!

#mental illness #depressing quotes #mentally unstable #depression edit #dead inside #deep quotes #anxiety attack #ptsd problems #life sucks #eating disoder things #eating disoder recovery #eating disoder trigger warning

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hadesisqueer · 1 year

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Just saw a rape joke and I got triggered so badly that I started kicking things.

You see, when I was a child, I was sexually abused.

The boy was older than me; not an adult, but but definitely a teenager, he was at least thirteen. I was very young, maybe four or five years old.

I don't think I knew him before that, but we were bored, and there was a ball, so he started playing soccer with me. And I think I got tired, and we sat down away from adults. And he started insisting. I remember being very uncomfortable and crying, not knowing what was going on, and he told me afterwards not to tell my parents because they'd be mad at me. So I didn't.

Being honest, I don't remember much of it. It's blurry. I blocked it out for years, and I think I still block some parts out. I can remember what color the soccer ball was but I can't remember the boy's face. Or even if it happened more than once: some memories differ from the other, so it might have happened more times. Or maybe I misremember things. I don't know.

Like I said, I entirely blocked it out for years. Until I was around sixteen, when I was watching a TV show, and they touched a similar topic. I started feeling bad, I didn't realize why. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. And then, a couple of days later, I had flashes of it, and I started remembering. And I had the worst panic attack of my life. My mother wanted to have me hospitalized, and I only started calming down when my sister came home and talked to me. And thus, my PTSD triggered 12 years later. I've been dealing with it for almost five years.

My parents were furious. Not at me, but at themselves for not realizing it at the time. I was so loving as a little girl, I loved hugging and being hugged, and then suddenly around that age, I started pushing people away when they touched me out of nowhere, and I became much more anxious, and lonelier, and much less talkative. That event, among other things, shaped who I was growing up to be. Why hadn't they noticed? They could have helped me sooner. They could have caught the boy and made sure he was punished.

I haven't told many people about this. The ones I did, had varied reactions. Most told me they were sorry for me, and that they were thankful I trusted them. One didn't believe me and thought I was faking it for attention. Another one questioned my sexual orientation, saying that maybe the reason I thought I didn't like boys was because one abused me as a child. I don't really talk to those two people anymore, as you can imagine.

And one paled because precisely, right before I told him, he had made a rape joke. He tried to explain the joke, but I just kept staring at him. He probably realized he had fucked up badly, because he ended up shutting up and leaving.

Rape jokes are disgusting. And when a victim confronts you about it, if you even try to explain yourself and why the joke is funny instead of immediately apologizing, you're just showing even more just how repulsive and miserable you are as a human being. Literally, go fuck yourselves.

#tw sex abuse #tw rape mention #trigger warnings #tw ptsd mention

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