#ptsd flashbacks

[cry-baby6]

[memes4doom]

[defire]

Inspired by this post

PTSD

Content: 2nd person, flashbacks, fear, would-be violent reflexes, panic

Lying down, eyes fly open within 5 seconds as the vivid memory siezes your whole body

Body going rigid, nails digging into the sheets

Looking up as you pull yourself back out of it to see wet teeth marks in the pillowcase

Heart jolting when you hear your name called

Always going out of your way to never stand behind other people. You simply can't comprehend this not being frightening and you want to be considerate.

Fighting back the urge to bite the fingers when someone puts a hand on your shoulder. Snapping your mouth shut instead.

Closing your eyes and every time, you see the exact same horrible scene: what happened to you, now happening to your loved one too.

Panic attacks that take over in an instant and force your body into a tiny squeezed-up ball, making sounds like a wounded animal.

[psychocitysblog]

Why does being alive have to be so hard?

[allsortsofthings-sb]

Arcane Mini Fic #6 - CaitVi

Fandom: Arcane (Netflix)

Type: Hurt/comfort

Rating: SFW

Triggers: Flashbacks

~~~~

"Where is it?" Cait mumbled to herself, looking for her spare bottle of shampoo. It had been moved since Vi was living here, and she knew she had one. She needed a restock anyway since normally she had a couple in the cupboard at any given time. But right now she just wanted to wash her hair and she just wanted her damn shampoo.

Caitlyn let out a loud huff and paused for a moment to try and avoid getting too angry. "Vi, did you move my shampoo?" She yelled, trying to get her attention, which she knew was unlikely to succeed all that much. Cait continued to ferret around for it, yanking out some of the containers that held cleaning supplies and the like.

She was starting to get really annoyed just as Vi walked into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as Cait kneeled in front of the cupboard. "I think I moved it under the spare toilet paper. It's okay, it's not the end of the world, darlin'." She said, trying to just be helpful and considerate as she watched, not wanting to get into her space.

Feeling someone behind her as she breathed, Cait felt her head twitch, her mind blur and then her eyes unfocus all at once. She could feel the wind on her neck and the gun cocked behind her. Breathing low in her chest, her body aching as she blankly stared and felt her whole life just slipping away.

The feeling was burning deep inside her, mixing with this putrid anger that she was so foolish and helpless and stupid. How could she let this happen like this? How could she have been so stupid? It was all in the front of her mind, fighting for attention in those last few moments as she tried to understand how she let someone like that into her bed and life, even if she did manage to keep her out of her heart.

Hands numbing and mouth hanging open, her bad eye twitching as she could feel the phantom slash that had blinded her in it not too long after this proposed death. For a moment she felt like she could see out of it again. Like she could see the world before her, ready to execute her with one final shot. Out of her sight no less. How utterly cowardly; at least look her in the eyes as she died.

"Cait?" Vi asked, seeing her staring at space, knowing something was wrong. "Caitlyn?" she asked again, a little more concerned this time since Cait wasn't responding. Finally, she knelt down and shook her shoulder. "Cait!" She raised her voice a little and then cupped her face to drag her attention back to her.

Cait did snap back to reality eventually, looking at Vi for a moment before flinching. "Shit." She mumbled as she held her eye, trying to massage the phantom pain away before it got any worse. "I'm sorry, I just slipped into one of those memory things. Like a flashback or something." She said, feeling her body start to tremble.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why it's getting to me so much." She mumbled, feeling like she was collapsing from the inside without a good enough reason. "I mean, you've been through worse, and I just want my damn shampoo. It's not your fault you stood there like that. I'm so stupid."

The rambling was probably the worst, but Vi just listened. "Cait, we both deal with things differently. Stop comparing yourself to me. You've been through some shit too, a lot more than you should have to deal with. You're allowed to have tough days... Just like you let me." Vi stroked her cheek with her thumb, feeling herself getting emotional as well.

"Fuck all these feelings," Vi said, breaking out of the soppy moment before they both started sobbing on the floor. "There." Vi grabbed the shampoo finally. "Go, enjoy your shower." She said, turning to leave and trying to subtly wipe her eyes.

"Vi," Cait called, and Vi turned. "You can stay if you want to. To join me or not, I just think it might be nice." She suggested, slightly awkwardly, but she didn't know how else to ask for her to stay. She'd never had to do it before.

Vi laughed to herself before shrugging. "You don't have to tell me twice." She teased before stripping off her shirt. This was much easier than dealing with emotions like normal. Or at least it was easier than going straight to crying on the floor; at least now she got a good view before that.

~~~~

Gif from: @lesbianjamies from this post

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[newhyperfixationhereicome]

Whoever first pointed out that Caleb from LADS looks like Aki Myojin...

WHY?! I was starting to forget that mf existed why remind me?

Worst part is, I can't even be mad because it's fucking true

[ruckystarnes]

Title: Facture Lines Author: RuckyStarnes Words: 1,211 Characters: John Walker, Ava Starr Pairing: None Warnings: Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD Flashbacks, Sensory Overload, Grounding Techniques, Reluctant Allies, Post-Mission Safehouse, Vulnerability, Found Family-ish / Maybe, Heavy Angst with Eventual Comfort Rating: Teen Square Filled/Prompt: Day 9 - Flashbacks Written for: @whumptober Summary: Walker isn’t built for gentleness, but when Ghost starts to unravel, he does the only thing he knows: hold the line. Type: Oneshot A/N:

John shoved the door shut with his shoulder, breathing hard. His shield—paint stripped, edges dented—clattered against the floorboards as he propped it against the wall. His knuckles were split and bloody, his chest heaving.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath, not even looking at her.

Ava staggered past him, her outline already flickering. Her skin shimmered, her body breaking apart at the edges as if she couldn’t hold herself together. She pressed her palms flat to the peeling wallpaper, as if the cold wall could ground her, but her breath came sharp and uneven.

“Don’t,” she managed, voice breaking. “Don’t talk.”

John turned then, frown cutting across his face. “You’re falling apart.”

“No shit,” she laughed bitterly. The red light from the bulb caught the sheen of sweat across her temple. She tried to phase steady, tried to breathe through it, but then the floor dropped out from under her.

Not literally—but in her head.

The sound came first. The piercing, high, endless blaring of sirens inside her skull. Add in the clipped orders in Russian, clinical English murmurs about energy output, words like specimen and containment breach.

Her body jerked and fractured, half in the room, half somewhere else. The safehouse warped into a sterile chamber: white walls, restraints, bright lights burning into her eyes until she couldn’t see. The smell of ozone and scorched skin flooded her senses, thick and choking. Her throat convulsed around air that wasn’t there.

She clawed at her chest, desperate to hold herself together as her atoms threatened to scatter. Not again, not again, don’t let them take me apart.

Her voice cracked raw. “Don’t let them…don’t…”

John swore and dropped to his knees. “Hey, hey, stay with me.” He grabbed her wrists, and the static burned up his arms as she thrashed, her body passing through his grip before snapping back solid again. Her scream split the air. John’s gut twisted. She wasn’t here, wasn’t seeing him at all. She was drowning in a place he couldn’t reach, and she was tearing herself apart on the way down.

So he slammed his forehead against hers, hard enough to jolt them both.

Her eyes widened for a second, pupils blown, and in that flicker of stillness he saw her—saw Ava, not the Ghost or the experiment.

“There you go,” he muttered, voice low, steady. “With me. Not them. Not a lab. Me.”

The sirens in her skull still wailed, but through them, she could hear his breath, slow and deliberate, dragging her back. He didn’t let her slip away, his grip was unyielding, his voice cutting through the static.

“Breathe. Copy me. In. Out. Again.”

She sobbed but followed his instruction. Each inhale tore at her lungs, each exhale shuddered like glass cracking, but she matched him. Her body steadied, the shimmer easing until she was solid again. She collapsed against him, forehead pressed to his shoulder, fingers knotted tight in his shirt.

“I hate this,” she whispered, every word soaked in exhaustion and shame.

“Yeah,” John rasped, his jaw tight. He didn’t loosen his grip, didn’t let her drift. “Me too.”

For a moment, there was only the buzz of the bulb, the hammering of rain above.

“They… pulled me apart. Piece by piece. Until I didn’t know if I’d ever come back together.” Her breath caught, chest shaking. “Sometimes I think I’m still on that table.”

John closed his eyes briefly, jaw working. He didn’t tell her she was wrong. Didn’t offer empty assurances. He just tightened his hold, anchoring her weight against him. “You’re here now. And as long as I’m breathing, you’re not going back there.”

Her grip on his shirt tightened, as if testing the promise. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But she stayed, pressed against him, letting his steadiness be the thing that kept her from unraveling again.

And for the first time in hours, the ghosts in her head quieted.

[starrshine15]

Hiya chat! So sorry for the late submission! I was unfortunately ill prepared and did this one at the last minute!

But I wanted my final submission to the week to be extra special.

For Doublestar Duo Week- Day 7~ “Lost and Found”

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

SURPRISE! I wrote a one shot, first time ever doing so for an event. Couldn’t think of a better one to do it for though! 😆

——

Summary- “It's no secret that even after so long.. Gregory would still suffer the trauma from the hell he went through. But Vanessa will do anything she can to help him get through it. Being his sense of safety, comfort, and security.

So what is she supposed to do, when the trigger for the PTSD flare up this time... is herself?”

——

I hope you enjoy! It was a labor of love and obsession passion :3 💕

@doublestarduofanweek