#aftermath of trauma

[furiousgoldfish]

Which ones of these arbitrary trauma-induced rules do you follow?

No spending money, ever. what if you need it later and your life depends on it.

Assume that all strangers are 3 seconds close to becoming hostile. fawn to keep them friendly.

No delegating tasks. no telling other people to do things you could potentially do yourself. what if they mess up.

Assume that everyone will consider you a burden if you do 1 single mistake that inconveniences them. do all that is possible to not make that mistake.

Do not admit when things are going wrong. wait until theres no other option but to ask for help, and even then consider not doing that.

Always act like you're okay. not doing so might make you seem 'not normal' and 'accused of being crazy and unstable'.

Do anything for friends, even if it sounds weird, dodgy, illegal. you want to prove that you're fun and easy going and helpful and useful and extremely cool with anything.

Never let it show if you're suspicious of someone. never say out loud that you think their intentions are bad. that might set them off.

If hurt, hide and isolate. Do not let anyone see you hurt.

Do not ask help for problems you feel are your own responsibility to solve. Even if you don't see yourself solving them successfully. If you can't do it, assume nobody can help you.

Help others to try and build positive relationships. Don't accept help so you don't end up relying on them for anything.

Do not start things that involve help or participation from other people. People are not reliable.

Assume that institutions, government, police, social services, and any kind of groups of people are all considering you a nuisance, and would attack you on sight, in every single situation. Never rely on them or assume they would do anything else.

No arguing, confronting, or standing up for yourself unless the situation is absolutely unsurvivable otherwise. Lay low until doing otherwise is seriously damaging your mental health and ability to live.

Give up on hopeful social encounters before they disappoint you. If you have to interact with people, assume the worst is about to happen.

No allowing yourself to idealize, or dream of positive future with people. It's a trap and your expectations need to be either extremely realistic or low.

Assume that fancy and expensive things don't exist for you. Despise them and get away from them.

No comparing yourself and your life to how other people live. It causes depression and despair. Other people's lives and standards of living are none of your business.

Do not showcase any skill or brag about any achievement. Jealous people can destroy you for satisfaction.

Assume people think the worst of you and don't consider changing their mind. Just try to keep out of their way.

Do not display anger. You don't want to be called insane or get arrested. You don't know what people could potentially blame you for if you're openly angry. But other angry people are dangerous and you need to get away from them.

If you follow more than half of these, you have a trauma-induced problem. These are not normal or healthy. These are not developed in a healthy environment. These are extremely self-protective, isolating, ruled by terror of the world and the people living in it. If you follow these, something bad has been done to you.

#trauma rules #living in trauma #consequences of trauma #social anxiety #aftermath of abuse #aftermath of trauma #trauma induced rules #long term abuse #consequences of abuse #extreme self-reliance

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1267

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

Dissociation whump

Character A (whumpee) has just been through something awful, and character B (caretaker) notices a difference in behaviour. A is staring off into space, not talking, only ever nodding or shaking their head sometimes. At some point, B asks what's wrong, and A just begins silently trembling, unable to speak.

#whump #writing #prompts #dissasociation #angst #emotional whump #aftermath of trauma

[rainydaywhump]

Did you ask for an angsty, bittersweet but hopeful comic about trauma featuring Kel and Annette? I'm not hearing a no!

CWs: aftermath of kidnapping/captivity, referenced death (not of any characters you know), talks about trauma and recovery.

Taglist: (I love you all): @i-eat-worlds @pigeonwhumps @den-of-whump @generic-whumperz @little-peril-stories

Written-out script below the images.

Script:

[Annette and Kel are sitting on the porch of Kel's cabin. It's a peaceful evening.] Annette: "There was this girl I liked in college."

Kel, smiling: "Oh?"

Annette: "She was out of my league, but hey, I could dream..."

[Kel laughs.]

Annette, smiling wistfully: "I thought of her a lot when I was kidnapped. Her laugh...her loopy handwriting...her earrings...but, after so many months in pain bacm there, I forgot her face. I still can't picture it."

Annette, hunched over dejectedly: "I swear, my brain keeps thinking of things to be upset about."

Kel: "You know..."

[An image of a younger Kel and a man laughing at a bar.] Kel: "Back when I was in the service, I met a guy there. I rather suspected our handler had set us up, heh.

He went on his mission, I went on mine...and he never got to come back. I never knew his real name. That's just how we worked: without a trace."

[An image of Kel standing in front of the Central Intelligence Agency's Memorial Wall.] Kel: "The only proof of his life and death, save for the knowledge of a few people in the agency, was the hurt I carried for him. Parting with that pain was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

When there is nothing to bury, when any physical wounds have healed, when those at fault go free -- we cling to anything that'll prove that the trauma was there."

[Back to the cabin setting in the present day.] Kel: "And we gotta give ourselves grace for that...just like we gotta give ourselves grace for letting go.

Of course, I'm no psychologist, so take that with a grain of -- "

[Annette leans her head on Kel's shoulder, surprising her.] Annette: "Thank you."

Kel: ... "You're welcome, Annette."

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump art #art #whump rescue #whump recovery #recovery whump #aftermath of trauma #aftermath of whump #trauma #healing #annette oc #annette and kel #kel oc #whump caretaker #zombies are an afterthought

[quietly-by-myself]

Fearless - Chapter 9

Masterlist

CW: fantasy whump, nonhuman whumpee, dhampir/vampire whumpee, human whumpee, mutual caretaking, emotional whump, recovery whump, aftermath whump, aftermath of trauma, denial, angst, depressed whumpee, PTSD

===

There were few secluded places on the island, especially for two young adults escaping the Dragon King. The only places that remained uninhabited were those where landmines laced the forest grounds from wars long past. 

It would seem like a madman’s feat to build a house where landmines threatened to blow the foot off of anyone who dared to walk the land. However, with Kaloyan’s magic, Nikolay and Kaloyan were able to safely traverse the forest to a field with a beautiful pond. 

Nikolay could only imagine that the field had once been home to barracks. Weeds grew where cattails had been cut down. Thistles stung their unclothed feet, but neither of them cared. Calluses protected them from the worst of the damage. Had life been good for the soldiers who’d lived in this scenic little piece of land?

For a moment, Nikolay could forget that war raged around them. That the land he was to inhabit was only abandoned because not even the Dragon King was daring enough to fight there.

The construction of the house was easy enough with Nikolay’s magic. Kaloyan would use his magic to cut down trees and Nikolay’s magic would refine them into planks, then planks into walls and floors. It was their peace of paradise, even as the two slept under the stars while the house went up.

A dock, a roof, four walls, a small kitchen with a stove for heat made of refined river stones - this was their home. The final day of construction was a joyous occasion. Kaloyan went out hunting while Nikolay put the door on the house. 

When Kaloyan returned, Nikolay smiled at him.

“Want to come in?”

Kaloyan smiled in return. “More ready than I’ve ever been.”

Kaloyan was the one who turned the knob. Though they’d entered the house during construction, it was different now. There was a magic to it. The house was theirs. It would be their home, in the middle of a forest of landmines, where they could live in peace. As boys turned to men by war, it was all they could’ve hoped for.

The stove soon burned with fire from Kaloyan’s magic. Though it was empty of any furniture, the forest not having had anything to help them make any, it was more home than either of the two men had ever felt before. 

Kaloyan approached Nikolay and, for the first time, pulled Nikolay into a hug. 

“I’m so glad I picked you to be my bonded mage.”

Nikolay didn’t say anything in return, though he certainly felt the same. Instead, he relaxed into the dhampir’s arms, relaxing for the first time in what felt like a century.

—

A broken door, smashed dishes, and blood on the floor marred Nikolay and Kaloyan’s perfect home. Nikolay hardly remembered how any of the damage had happened. Had he been cooking? There was food on the floor, near the broken dishes.

Looking around, Nikolay realized he needed to get Kaloyan to a bed. Gently, Nikolay shook Kaloyan. Kaloyan let out a heartbreaking whimper at the gentle shake.

“Don’t hurt me.”

Nikolay pulled his hand back immediately, shocked. “Kaloyan, it’s just me. I want you to get to your bed.”

Their beds had been left untouched when Dimitar and his group had raided the place. It was a kindness that Nikolay hadn’t expected from someone like Dimitar. At that moment, though, all it meant was that Kaloyan could lie down for now.

Once Kaloyan was in bed, Nikolay went to the kitchen. He was starving, but knew not to feed himself too quickly after the starvation. With a little bit of magic, the frozen meat that they’d stored was quickly cooked over the stove that was all too easy to light.

As Nikolay took a seat at their table that only had one chair that wasn’t broken to eat, he heard crying. It was Kaloyan. 

The sound struck all the words out of Nikolay. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to react? Kaloyan thought that Nikolay hated him. Of course, too affected by what they’d gone through, Kaloyan couldn’t look through their bond to see that Nikolay didn’t hate him. In fact, Nikolay loved Kaloyan more than ever.

Sure, hearing Kaloyan say that he hated Nikolay had affected Nikolay. How could it not? Nikolay, though, hadn’t been hurt by it. Rather, it had infuriated him. It had hurt him to see his best friend say that - only because Kaloyan had been abused so badly. Nikolay was tormented by seeing his friend so severely mutilated, mentally and physically.

Kaloyan had gotten it worse than him. Nikolay was sure of it. As much as Nikolay hated to admit it, Kaloyan was just more sensitive than him, too. Everything affected Kaloyan more than Nikolay.

How the hell was Nikolay supposed to help Kaloyan? The words of the mage came back to him, but Nikolay hadn’t been traumatized. He’d fought back. He’d escaped and rescued Kaloyan. To say he was traumatized would be a lie. Kaloyan was the one who was traumatized.

So why then did they need to follow the path of healing together, if Nikolay wasn’t traumatized?

Fuck.

Never before had Nikolay felt so helpless. Not with the Dragon King. Not with his father’s death. Not with anything. Why? Why had Kaloyan been hurt? Why the innocent one?

Why are you guilty if Kaloyan is innocent?

That question planted in his head by that ancient mage echoed in Nikolay’s head. Nikolay had no good answer to it. What was wrong with him? He was the strong one. Why couldn’t he be stronger?

The days passed slowly. Kaloyan showed a smile to Nikolay, but Nikolay knew the truth - Kaloyan was getting worse. Between the crying and the nightmares that woke them both up, Nikolay knew Kaloyan was slipping away. Kaloyan was a shell of the person who was his best friend. Nikolay didn’t know what to do.

In his head, Nikolay cried to some higher power, the goddess he’d worshiped for years but who’d forsaken Nikolay, for help. He needed help. Kaloyan was hurt. Kaloyan was hurt. Nikolay-

Nikolay was hurt, too.

Just admitting that made the helplessness fifty times worse. How was he supposed to help Kaloyan when he himself was hurt?

His hands weren’t the same. When he tried to fix the legs of the chairs Dimitar’s followers had broken, his hands couldn’t wrap entirely around the chair legs. 

Nikolay was weak. Why had he fought so stupidly? Why couldn’t he have been smarter? Why? Why was life like this? Why had his goddess forsaken him? Why had his father died? Why had he fallen for the Dragon King’s lies?

Drowning was the only word Nikolay could put to his emotions. He was running out of oxygen, sinking, confused, and unable to find his way to the surface. The tight feeling in his shoulders and chest never went away.

Wheezing. Gasping. Heaving. What was he supposed to do?

Nikolay did the only thing he knew how to - throw himself into work. Kaloyan spent most of his time in bed and was refusing to eat. Nikolay didn’t blame him. However, Nikolay needed to work. He knew it was dangerous to feel so helpless and work was the only way he could stop feeling.

Working on the house was no easy task. Besides the door that had been broken in, all the windows needed repairs. The roof had been in a state of disrepair for a while - Nikolay needed to fix that. He needed to check the integrity of the foundation. He needed to help Kaloyan.

Fixing the house was helping Kaloyan. How could Kaloyan feel safe in a house that bore the damage of his tormentor?

So, Nikolay fixed the house. The door came first, then the windows. However, as Nikolay got to the roof, he noticed something. When he’d try to manipulate the logs into planks, they wouldn’t become smooth. They wouldn’t feel weatherproof as Nikolay had intended.

Yes, helplessness was indeed dangerous for someone of his magic. He was losing his magic. He was becoming Tainted. 

However, helplessness fed into helplessness. How was Nikolay supposed to break the cycle? Sure, he’d broken the cycle of violence, but violence had replaced itself with helplessness. After all, if he couldn’t fight it, how was Nikolay supposed to fix it?

Sitting by one of the walls where a bullet hole pierced pristine wood, Nikolay found his heart full of ire. Why couldn’t he just be stronger? Kaloyan needed him to be strong. Yet, somehow, Nikolay couldn’t be strong.

As he tried to fix the hole, manipulate the wood around him to repair it, his magic fizzled.

Damn it all.

Resigned for the first time in a long time, Nikolay buried his face in his hands and cried, trying to keep the noise down so as to not alert Kaloyan.

Nikolay was going to become Tainted. He was going to become like the beast that had hurt Kaloyan. The beast that had hurt him. He was traumatized by that beast. That trauma was going to be his downfall.

Tears rolled down his face as he realized that Kaloyan would truly hate him. Not words that Dimitar would force out of his mouth, but true, unadulterated hatred for a beast.

Nikolay wanted to stop it. Nikolay wanted to change himself. He wanted to be strong. As he sat there, sobbing quietly, though, Nikolay realized that he never would be again. He would become Tainted and Kaloyan would hate him, if Kaloyan didn’t die in the process.

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpworld, @darkthingshappen, @pigeonwhumps, @rabass, @whither-wander-whump, @whumpshaped, @espresso-depresso-system, @oddsconvert

#nonhuman whumpee #vampire whumpee #human whumpee #mutual caretaking #emotional whump #recovery whump #aftermath whump #aftermath of trauma #denial whump #whump angst #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #whump community #fantasy whump #depressed whumpee #ptsd tw #fearless story #dhampir whumpee

[msfbgraves]

Strong Root

Making myself cry again about my fic Chasing Dragons, spoilers under the cut

Daniel ends the fic as a rape victim who is incredibly touch averse. And Mr. Miyagi would be such an incredibly safe presence for him then. No. Touching. Smiles and bows and utterly respected boundaries. Wax on wax off wouldn't force him to think about his body, simply repetitive moments. No undressing required. Miyagi would never pry about his life. Just breathe, Daniel-san. Anything can heal. Just take time. You have strong root.

To have a father figure who would support him and care for him but would never volunteer touch and definitely never demand it. Who, when Daniel would inevitably break down would lead him back to his body with words and Daniel's own breath. Who would probably reintroduce him to good tactile sensations by giving him smooth wood to feel, soft pillows, tender saplings. Who wouldn't even physically be there for a lot of karate training so Daniel could let his guard down. Who would let Daniel rage at the sea, and drape a soft towel over him after. Who'd dry his tears with a cloth...All until Daniel would drop his forehead against his shoulder and Miyagi would simply let him stand there in silence for minutes on end.

That's what would earn him the headband.

And slowly, haltingly, Daniel would start to talk.

#chasing dragons #my fic #mr miyagi #Aftermath of trauma #healing journey #r3pe #tw rap3 #rape

[frays-monster-yuri]

The Deviless speaks with a lilt. “You will find it difficult to find another who eclipses the patience and understanding that Jill has offered. That said, one wonders what prompted you to linger here in the first place.”

***

"Is that a threat?" The wizened cat's voice falls to a hardened whisper.

"What do you have to lose?" The Deviless purrs. "Talk is cheap when you can learn first hand if I measure up to this mysterious murderer you see in me."

Just sharing some of my favorite little dialog snippets that I wrote yesterday. I adore the dynamic of Jill attempting to help other monster girls with their problems in order to try and fit into the world.

But they see the Deviless as embodying their problems, so she delights in stepping into the role of antagonizing them. This quickly illustrates how impervious to physical harm she is.

Only for within 2 pages to see the Deviless undone by hostile manifestations of traumas that Jill is actually quite used to shrugging off. This duo has a lot of dramatic contrast where it is easy to setup the concerns of one before the other picks it up and runs with it.

This scene of dialog also gave me a nice little world where monster girls are quite comfortable being quick to fight to the death if resurrection is so readily available. But this leads to a lot of unecessary trauma. The world is actively being haunted by really poor conflict resolution. The fantasy often revolves around how scars manifest echoes of pains that never healed, perpetuating anything that goes unresolved.

The Deviless could run away, but the world would not stop finding reasons to prompt everyone to hate her and the mother that abused her before making it everyone else's problem.

I kinda adore the shape this story is growing into? Also I am awake at 2am so imma blog about my thoughts.

#deluded hearts: inheritance #deviless x jill #angsty lesbians #monster girls #queer fantasy #writing #monster girl story #aftermath of trauma #jill is a bitter trans girl from america who shrugs off trauma on the daily #trauma does not make her strong

[dont-touch-my-soup]

Hope is a Dangerous Thing

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CW: captivity, aftermath of trauma, everyone is sad, confused, hurt, scared and generally unhappy

Days blurred into each other, and Jinn did his best to stay busy.

Nights were harder. Nights were impossible.

And the lack of sleep was starting to get a problem. His head was throbbing, and his left eye didn’t stop twitching and he had trouble to remember his lines. He had tried to catch some sleep during daylight but then he’d been late for a rehearsal and the punishment had been worse than his eternal exhaustion.

It was nine days since Kell ... he tried not to think about it.

Jinn had never felt so lonely. He hadn’t realised how much he had depended on Kell and even though he’d have never believed it possible, Robin had become even worse as well. Jinn tried to avoid her as much as he could.

The day felt so much longer than usual, and Jinn desperately wanted to withdraw to his room. Practice would be horrible. Panic settled into a heavy knot deep down his gut just thinking about it.

It wasn’t really anybody’s fault, but they were just not enough to close the hole Kell and Thrasher had left.

His heart twisted in his chest and he tried not to think about them, but just before practice was about to start, a movement in the corner of his eye made him turn.

He felt cold and hot at the same time.

Kell was standing in the entrance. His face looked haunted, his eyes glazed and empty.

For a moment he was convinced he was imagining things. Could sleeplessness cause hallucinations? He looked over to the others. Everyone was staring at Kell.

Jinn started for him, but a hand held him back.

“Give him some space,” Koel said, before Jinn could tear out of her grip.

Kell didn’t look up while heading to his usual spot.

Jinn felt frozen. Numb. He couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. The coldness creeped up his limbs until it closed around his heart. He was trembling so violently it was hard to keep his weight on his feet.

He missed the cue, and he was glad Oryn wasn’t here. He tried to concentrate but it was hard, when Kell was standing just out of reach.

Questions bubbled up in his mind and he couldn’t stop staring at him.

Was he okay? Of course, he wasn’t. He measured him with his gaze. There were no visible injuries except for a bandage on his left hand, but Jinn knew how bad his arms had looked a few days ago and he was anxious about what else he was hiding under his clothes.

What had happened in the last few days? Jinn wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. He had survived. That was all that mattered. Right?

Kell hadn’t even looked at him. He hadn’t looked at anyone or anything for that matter. It reminded Jinn too much of Blackbird.

What had Oryn done to him?

As soon as they were dismissed Kell fled the room.

He was avoiding Jinn. The thought ripped a hole in his heart. Maybe Koel was right. Maybe he should give him some time.

He’d survived. But still he was gone.

***

When Jinn opened his door, he froze. The room wasn’t empty. Kell was standing at the window. He turned around when Jinn stepped inside.

Their gazes met. Kell’s eyes were empty, and desperation tugged on Jinn’s heart. What if there was nothing left of him inside?

Then something in Kell’s eyes flickered and Jinn was moving before he was even aware of what he was doing. And then he was directly in front of him.

His face was pale and there were dark shadows under both of his eyes. He hadn’t moved. He looked haunted and his eyes were jumping over Jinn as if he was searching for something.

Jinn’s chest was aching. He didn’t know what to do.

“Kell,” he whispered. His name sounded like a question.

Kell’s gaze snapped up to his face and his eyes were screaming.

“Kell,” Jinn said again. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to do something, but he wasn’t sure if it would just cause him pain. Or maybe he despised him now. Or maybe he couldn’t stand his touch anymore after Blackbird. Or maybe ...

Tears pooled in Kell’s eyes, and his next breath came in a choked shudder. And then suddenly he was sobbing uncontrollably. He dropped forward into Jinn’s arms and together they fell to the ground.

Kell’s head dropped against Jinn’s shoulder and tears almost immediately soaked through Jinn’s clothes.

“Kell,” he whispered, pressing his arms around him.

Kell was violently shaking under his touch. His sobs tore the silence and his hands held onto Jinn for dear life and Jinn’s heart was aching.

He stroked his hand over his back, but otherwise he wasn’t moving.

His hands were shaking too.

He scrambled for words but there was nothing he could say.

“I’m sorry,” Kell finally sobbed into Jinn’s sleeve.

“There is nothing ... nothing you have to be sorry about,” Jinn said. “I am the one who has to apologize. I should have told-...”

“Don’t,” Kell said. “I don’t ... I’m not ready to hear about it yet.”

It took a long time until Kell had calmed down.

And Jinn couldn’t stop asking himself what he had been forced to do to survive.

Oryn had never let anyone live. But he had made an exception for Kell and Jinn knew this wasn’t over yet.

Not when Oryn knew Kell was a healer.

And Jinn wondered what Oryn needed a healer for.

_________________

Thank you for reading! @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @tears-and-lilies @imagination1reality0 @suspicious-whumping-egg @i-can-even-burn-salad @siren-of-agony @villainsvictim (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)    

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#Unsung Heroes #whump writing #fantasy whump #long-term captivity #aftermath of trauma #I made myself cry writing this

[adrenaline-whump]

Fade to Sunrise

Summary: Cade wasn’t OK with dying, but he wasn’t really prepared to not die, either.

Context: Immediately after In the Wind, after the phone call that confirms Hank is OK.

This is all @redwingedwhump’s fault for saying nice things about my team dynamics.  :)

~~~

“First,” Donnie said, “Let’s run you by a hospital real quick to get checked out.” “First, we’re going to pick up Hank,” I said. Hank was in South Carolina without any way to get back to us, so we had to go get him. The plan was to meet him at the highway welcome center just past the state line. “We only need one car for that,” he said. “Alex can go get Hank, and we—” “It’s not like I’m bleeding out. I’ll be fine. I'll go later.” He gave me an exasperated look, but no way were they going to drag me to a hospital right then. I’d just talked to Hank, so I knew he was OK, but I needed to see him face to face. I don’t know why. I just did. The drive was pretty miserable, although that wasn’t Donnie’s fault. He asked me if I’d rather talk or listen to music, so I chose music. And then every other song seemed to be some guy smashing his guitar while screaming about not being OK. I could've asked to change to another station, I guess. But he might have asked why, and explaining felt like too much work.   I’d run out of energy a long time ago, burned through all of it waiting for Owen to finally get around to killing me. If I’d had any reserves, I’d burned through those too. And it just wouldn’t end. I felt hot and hollow, like the last log in a campfire, ready to collapse into sparks and ash. The longer we drove, the more scrapes and bruises woke up and started complaining. I started to rub my eyes and stopped when I saw the back of my hand was scraped to hell. When had that happened? I couldn’t remember. I remembered walking into the cabin. Nothing was out of the ordinary, or so I’d thought at the time. I watched the replay in my head, over and over, looking for where I’d screwed up. The door had been locked when I got there. I didn’t think I could’ve mistaken an unlocked door for a locked one. Then what? The light in the kitchen had been on. I’d assumed one of us had left it on, but I probably should’ve wondered, right? If I’d paused for one second and looked down the hall, maybe everything would have turned out differently, and I wouldn’t have come so close to getting Hank killed. What the fuck was I going to say to him?  There wasn’t an apology strong enough for the gnawing disgust that snarled my insides. “How you doing over there?” Donnie asked. “Fine.” “Of course.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “That hurts my feelings, dude. Lying to my face like that. I thought we were friends.” “I’m lying to your face because we’re friends.” “Points for honest lying, I guess. Or lying honestly. You don’t have to be fine, but you do need to tell me if you feel sick or dizzy or something, in case I need to divert to the next hospital.” “OK.” He was keeping his curiosity to himself, I could tell. He was dying to ask what had happened, where I’d been, how everything had played out. He and Alex and Hank had spent too many stressful hours waiting and wondering what was going on. And now here I was, the guy with the answers. I watched the dark landscape scroll by the window. Talking about it would mean thinking about it, and I was already doing too much of that. We crossed the South Carolina border, and my heart started thumping harder. It wasn’t like Hank was going to yell at me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice. But whatever he’d gone through between when I walked away from him and now was my fault.

Too soon, a blue sign pointed us off the highway to a tidy little brick building with picnic tables on either side. Hank was sitting on a bench out front. As we pulled in, he stretched a little and stood up, like it was totally natural to be hanging out at an empty rest stop at 4:30 in the morning. Donnie pulled into the closest space and glanced at me expectantly.

I almost couldn’t get out of the truck. I felt sick again. Maybe that bump on the head would turn out to be a fatal head bleed after all. On the plus side, if I stood up and immediately passed out, I wouldn’t have to decide what to say. Unfortunately, I stayed conscious the whole time my feet got me out of the truck and walked me toward Hank. He seemed OK, as far as I could tell, though I couldn’t make myself look him in the eye. I took a deep breath as I stopped in front of him. “Hank, I—” “C’mere, buddy,” he said, and hugged me like he was my dad. I almost lost my shit. Again. All the apologies I’d set up in my head fell apart, and I just croaked fuck into his shoulder. And then said it a few more times, as my eyes burned and I tried not to drip anything on his shirt. He was there, solid and real, the same Hank as always, which meant that even though I’d still fucked everything up, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. He finally let me out of the hug so he could look me over. “You look like shit,” he observed. “I know,” I said. “Listen, I’m...I’m sorry.” “Sorry for what?” He sounded honestly baffled. “We’re all going home, buddy, and that’s all I care about.” Back to Memphis. Familiar things. Normal things. Home. I didn’t know why it felt so disorienting, like being underwater and the surface isn’t where you thought it would be. He glanced at the brick building. “Want to run inside and wash up a little? The sinks have decent hot water.” Alone? It struck me as another strange idea. Free to just walk off by myself...that sounded good. Really good. And hot water sounded even better. ~~~ As Cade disappeared into the building, Donnie and Alex joined Hank. “Hey, guys. Thanks for coming down.” Donnie shook his head. “You know, I wasn’t a big fan of this plan...but I have to admit, you are looking remarkably not-dead.” Hank shrugged deprecatingly. “It’s a talent.” “Talent.” Alex’s deep voice had the slightest edge. “If any of us dived into shit expecting talent to get us out, what would you say?” “It could’ve been a bad call,” Hank said evenly, “but it was mine to make.” “Yeah.” Donnie rubbed his head. “But let’s not ever do that again, OK?”



“Agree.” Hank tilted his head at the building. “How’s he doing?” Alex and Donnie looked at each other. “Not great,” Alex said. “Yeah,” Donnie said. “He’s pretty fucked up.” “Did you take him anywhere?” Donnie snorted. “You know how he feels about hospitals. He says he’s not hurt that bad. But he can hardly move his left arm, he holds himself like he’s got a cracked rib or two, and he admitted he took a couple of skull taps, though he says he didn’t get knocked out. That’s physically. Mentally...” Donnie paused, uncharacteristically serious. “I’m not criticizing, just observing: if Owen had ventilated you, I think Cade would’ve lost his mind. He’s better now, but he’s still...not great.” “Well, he hasn’t slept, probably hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday...” “Dehydrated,” Donnie said. “I don’t think Owen gave him anything that whole time.” “And then I sprang the trade on him. Lucky for both of us that it worked.” “For all of us,” Alex said. “It’s not like Donnie and me would’ve handled it any better.” Hank nodded. “Fair. The three of us can debrief after we get back. I’ll talk to Cade as we drive. Will you two head back to the cabin and bring our gear back to Memphis? We can sort out everything at the office.” “Will do. And you’ll head straight back?” “Mostly. That boy’s going to get checked out at a hospital if I have to frog-march him in there myself.”

#in the wind #cadeverse #cade #hank #donnie #aftermath of trauma #angst #team

[callaeidae3]

Night therapy, of stargazing and quiet time together...

...and some reprieve, from the things that haunt their minds when they try to sleep.

#kyle kindall #yuuki takahashi #recovery #hurt comfort #aftermath of trauma #kindall k series #post kk3 #bandages #crutches #ocs #original story #emotional whump #psychological whump

[furiousgoldfish]

Things that trauma does:

gives you health issues

gives you paralyzing fear of the future and of the past

stops you from reaching for a future you might have liked to take

gives you amnesia and general memory problems

makes your sleeping time an absolute hell

makes your awake time an absolute hell

makes you consider not being alive way more than you usually would

makes certain unavoidable situations terrifying and next to impossible to handle

makes it more difficult and straining to survive

makes you feel alone in every group

makes your relationships strained and alienating

makes your socialization either a performance or something you cannot even do anymore

forces you to see yourself as weak and breakable

forces you to admit that bad things can and will happen and you can no longer live in oblivion or optimism about your prospects, they will look bad even when they are not

makes you catastrophize the future or makes you believe there is no future for you at all

brainwashes you and builds your fears up to the point where you can't imagine there being a reality that isn't traumatic somewhere

gives you severe mental health issues and issues with how you view yourself and your body

makes you long for a moment without pain and fighting

makes you believe that you will never be safe, or loved, or happy, or that you don't even deserve any of those things in the first place

makes you feel abandoned by the world and like you have no place in anyone's heart

makes you alienated from any person who hasn't been thru trauma

makes you feel like nothing will ever be okay

what trauma doesn't do:

make you stronger

#aftermath of trauma #aftermath of abuse #trauma symptoms #symptoms of abuse #trauma is not useful #trauma is not beneficial #trauma is hell

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1037

So your character has matured over the last few years. As they’ve grown up they’ve come to realise that maybe rushing their past recoveries was actually a terrible idea, as they suffer consequences to this day (aches and pains, flare-ups, repressed trauma etc).

So now they listen to doctors when they’ve been injured/sick - they dutifully take their medicines, force themselves to go to physical therapy on time (they even try to be nice to the PT on occasion!), they take the full amount of leave/bed rest (though they do sneak some paperwork in), and they don't try to push themselves. 

Such maturity is commended by the team/family/friends as it goes to show how far your character has come, as well as easing their worry of them. 

However. (And there always is a however in these situations)

What if a rival or a group of reckless newcomers see this as your character just being lazy or trying to get out of work? Maybe they take this to the higherups (but the higher-ups just laugh because your character is ‘actually doing as they’re told’). Maybe after this they go directly to your character and attack them in some way (verbally or physically) - or maybe they’re sick of seeing them be more cautious on missions and decide to throw them in danger. 

Of course this takes a huge toll on your characters confidence... so what if they decide to go back to their old ways? 

#sorry for the length lol #i can see this happening to one of my oc's #whump #writing #prompts #angst #recovery #positive recovery #team as a family #recovery setbacks #aftermath of trauma #trauma #past injuries #flare ups #repressed trauma

[the-whumping-hour]

June of Doom Day 2: “Get in” (Survivor’s Guilt / Salve)

CW: Gangs and gang violence, acute stress disorder, brief mentions of other mental illnesses, repeated dissociation, trauma aftermath, repeated references to past murder 

Notes: All characters are roughly 18/19 here. Ayeli uses she/they pronouns. Of the mentioned-but-not-present characters, Dominic is the leader of the gang, and “Marcy” is Ayeli’s brother. This is another backstory piece (there may be a lot of these, this month, because I am trying to establish precedence for more writing on here), so take every bit of characterization with a grain of salt ;) 

Tag List: @lektricwhump

*** 

He tells the story differently every time. Sometimes he heard the sound of the safety clicking off ahead of time, sometimes he dove to the ground, sometimes the bullet grazed him while shielding Emir as the other boy tried to crawl away from the line of fire. 

Sometimes he doesn’t remember anything at all. That’s the most truthful retelling. 

“Noah?” Ayeli's voice is soft at the door. He can picture her fingers poised on the doorknob, the way she would lean her forehead against the wood for a moment as if sending a prayer off for him. 

“Come in.” Noah keeps his voice quiet, swallowing and pushing back the tears burning the corners of his eyes. They can’t know that he was crying again, they can’t see him like this. They wouldn’t ever be able to love him if they saw him like this. He doesn’t look up at the sound of their footfalls crossing the room, nor when the bed dips with their weight, when their arms wrap around him. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air between them. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”  

“No.” 

There are no more words spoken between them for all the time it takes for him to get the confidence to wipe the faintest tear tracks away.  

“Dominic got a jacket for you. Bit of a different make than mine, ‘cause apparently the guy who made them left the city last month, but it’s basically the same thing. You are the new generation, after all.” A hint of amusement lingers on her lips. He can almost see it. 

“You’re what, half a year older than me?” 

“Been in the gang longer though. I’ve got experience under my belt.” They squeeze his shoulder. “Come on. Dom’s gonna be pissed if another one of his new recruits gets depression.” 

It had been less than a year since he left home. Less than a year and already he was one with the city, always dodging the bigger fish in the pond, laughing with his friends and clambering onto the top of trains to see who could write their name closest to the edge. He hadn’t thought that night would be different. Nothing was different except for the gunfire that followed. 

“I found him!” Her carefree teasing is restrained, but not enough for Noah to not get butterflies. “Think he got lost.” 

“In his own head, maybe.” Julian’s mouth is half-covered by his hand as the other one spins the tab on a can of soda. “Leave the boy alone, he’s been through a lot in the last two weeks.” 

“Haven’t we all?” Ayeli bends a finger and suddenly the TV is turned on. “When did Dom say he wanted to meet up again?” 

“Eighteen-thirty. We’re having a ceremony.” Julian’s fake jazz hands that accompany the word only add to the levels of other-ness that Noah’s been feeling in the past dozen days he’s been with the gang. He still pretends to not feel the way that Julian’s eyes often bore into the back of his head when he’s not looking. Ayeli says he has hypervigilance; Noah says he has creepy as f*ck disorder.  

“Can you drive me to pick Marcy up from school first?” 

The conversation drops out of Noah’s ears. 

He remembers the pain, at least. The burning across the side of his arm, his feet forcing him still for only half a second before running, and there were screams around him and some of them were his own. He’d come back later to look at the bodies. To confirm what he already dreaded. In the moment, though, he didn’t know who it was, he didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he needed to leave.

He was the only one who survived. 

“Hey, hey boy. Snap out of it.” 

He’s seated on the couch now. Julian’s waving fingers in front of his face.  

“Where is... what...” 

“Sometimes that happens,” Ayeli’s next to him now, where did they come from, what? “You’re here. You’re here. Just dissociation.”  

A jingle plays on the television. He feels like he’s floating. 

“Hey, the three of us... we could make, like, a club. Weird trauma club.” Ayeli’s hand is back around his shoulders, and Julian’s wandered back to the floor. And Noah is here. He’s here.  

And Ayeli keeps talking. “I’d be the leader. They say I got a complex stress disorder. It’s from all the—” 

“Noah.” Julian cuts in abruptly. Noah’s almost thankful for it. “How’s your arm?” 

“It’s... it’s feeling better.” The sting of the memory cuts through again. He can’t do this now, he’s here. “I think the stuff is working.” 

“Good.” Julian stands up again now, walking over to the kitchen. “I’m gonna reapply it. Allie, get me a new bandage.” 

The use of a nickname almost angers Noah. Almost. They’re friends, they’ve been through so much, it makes sense. But he’ll never be like that. He’ll always be the ‘new recruit’ until the next kid comes along. It’s awful. He has no one. 

He had them before. But now they’re dead. 

He was hiding in a dumpster when they found him. It was some territorial attack, they said, it wasn’t personal. And of course it wasn’t personal. He’d never hurt anyone, not for real. They were scouting out the damage, trying to plan retaliation. He just happened to be in the middle. They offered him a place, but he would be just another member, just a new recruit.  

He accepted. 

“Good Kings, kid, reposition yourself—” 

“Julie, be nice to him. He keeps zoning out.” 

“Well it’s not my fault.” 

Noah is here. He’s here, he’s back, he’s here. 

The salve burns on his arm. 

“We’ve got you, Noah. We’ve got you.” Her voice is soft like her hands are. She begins neatly wrapping a fresh bandage. “You wanna go back upstairs now? Dominic told us not to overwhelm you too much. You should feel better in a few weeks.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.” His voice sounds hollow as they pull his shirt sleeve back down. Julian pats his shoulder. 

“You need anything, just let us know, ‘kay? We’re here for you.” 

Here for him. They’re here for him.  

They might be the only ones. 

#trauma #aftermath of trauma #acute stress disorder #ptsd tw #dissociation tw #organized crime #noah boylan #ayeli astian #julian tatola #backstory #whump #whump community #whump challenge #whump prompt #june of doom #juneofdoom #day 02 #i do not know how to tag things please forgive me #writing challenge #my writing #original writing

[blogger360ncislarules]

A very rough day for Hetty, turns into a sweet night with Granger.

@whumptober-archive

#whumptober2023 #no.16 #no.29 #would you lie with me and forget the world #scented candle #fic #ncis la #aftermath of trauma #my work #langer #ncis la drabble

[popcornoncemore]

I wish I could respond to emotional stuff normally. My friend got upset and left suddenly while crying. It was obvious he needed space. In the past, I'd be able to feel empathetic and worried, but I'd think rationally.

But after trauma, the experience quickly becomes, "I don't know where he is, he's upset, therefore he's dead and the world is ending."

Like it's not helping him, it's not helping me, but I'm stuck thinking he's dead until I have it directly from him that he's safe.

#trauma #tw trauma #aftermath of trauma #trauma recovery #trauma response #popcornwithnate

[msfbgraves]

My ask is when Daniel returns to his family home after that horrible night, does he tell his parents what happened? Poor sweet omega. I hope his Ma and Pop indulged him with lots of hugs and kisses. Pop is so soft with his Daniele, it warms my heart. I think he'd take the time to be really open with his love, have Daniele curled in his lap like old times as Pop strokes his hair and promises him he's safe and loved. 🥺

[For what it's worth I'm surprised Terry did physically cheat but I don't think it ruins the story. Unfortunately I do not believe any man with power or influence would be 100% faithful to his wife. Terry is a handsome Alpha mob boss in the 1930s right? It's sad but I think it's realistic.]

[Yes, Terry is a very handsome Alpha mob boss in the 1930's and I have heard these kinds of stories over, and over, and over again too.]

As for Daniel: there's some angsty stuff under the cut. Daniel was much better the next morning but this had to happen first:

When he first comes home with the taxi that brought his mother - because he needs the puppies looked after first and foremost - he arrives home to find Michael and his Pop in a vicious fight. Michael comes out of the room and he stops to find Daniel clutching his baby. He wants to move towards him but Daniel turns away, by that time the Don already hot on his heels. The brothers stare at each other until their father turns to Michael with one word.

"Leave."

He's so careful with Daniele - the boy will not let go of his puppy so he herds him away, into the sitting room unto a couch, one arm around his son's shoulder, the other arm shielding the little baby more tightly against his Mama.

Daniel doesn't talk at all through any of it, the Don only shushes the infant.

It's not very long till Vincent and Lisa arrive - the Don shoos his brother away (he really only needed him to see what the situation was), and Lisa very softly takes baby Gianni, cooing to the puppy that'll they'll make him nice and comfortable, auntie Lisa will take care of you, won't she, sweetie? Leaving the two of them alone and only when they're together, bathed in mild sunlight, does Daniele start to cry. But there's no anger there, he is so quiet when he does it, tears years in the making, so much more than one heartbreak pouring out of him. And the Don absolutely knows that he is to blame as much as anyone. So he sits there and bears it, because there are no words.

Daniele falls asleep in his father's arms.

He gets awoken by Lucille, she tells him the puppies are OK, yes, baby, she's seen to that, the three eldest are at school or kindergarten, Robby is at the Kreese's for now, but she knows Betsy too, she's spoken to her, lovely girl, they'll get their dinner all, sh, baby boy, they're OK - and then he just holds her too. He wants to see Gianni, but he's asleep upstairs, come baby, I'll take you up so you can see him. She brings him to his old room and when he sinks down at the travel cot and keep staring at his puppy, she asks him only one, halting question:

"Was it bad?"

And then she holds him as he muffles his screams against her chest, holds him till his tears run dry and she brings him, pale and shaking, to the kitchen, where Lisa's making Mac and Cheese.

Daniel doesn't remember much about the rest of the evening, but his family never forgets.

#knights and pawns #omegaverse #mob au #aftermath of trauma #angsty #tw angst

[frays-monster-yuri]

Weight of Broken Promises hit 10,000 views today on Royal Road. There's only 35 chapters split into 38 uploads.

That is an insane amount of people who have done the digital equivalent of picking up my incredibly slow burn story about love and trauma that seems to drown you in everything else.

Today, after 12s into a 16 hour shift. I got to just linger in the romance of the latest chapter.

A reaffirming and deepening of a relationship after hurting each other and dancing around its acknowledgement.

A tender kiss of an unfamiliar hand attatched to a beloved person.

Loving the parts of us that we are unsure about.

A head pat during an explanation of goals... and a small distress at not receiving more moments with your partner's hand in your hair.

Oh. And the chapter's namesake. Baring Their Souls to each other. Seeing beyond what the world sees and diving into each others thoughts/history.

Weight of Broken Promises is really only just getting started. Only the first planned adventure is finished. We've circled back around for another more thorough combat tutorial before going out to see the edge of the world.

An insufferable noble brat needs the girls' help.

#weight of broken promises litprg #lesbian #wlw #wlw story #aftermath of trauma #disaster lesbian #butch knight #and let's not forget the closested trans girl that is slowly pushing them back together