#flashbacks suck

[firefandoming]

Among us is really awesome and it's helping my cptsd induced insomnia :)

[itsyagurlsatan]

when you put your all into someone and they completely break you down.

Then in the end youre just feeling like an empty shell and no matter how hard you try you really can’t go back to how you were before.

That nice person that would drop anything and everything for someone. That nice person that would not think twice about spending their money on you. That nice person that would put there feelings aside for you. That nice person is gone now. That nice person. That neive child. Is gone.

why would you treat someone you “love” like they were below you? When you didn’t have a dollar to your name.. that person helped you and in return you destroyed them.

[unalive-creature]

The flashbacks/relivings are draining and triggering pppffff I’m drained

[matcha-latte-vibes]

What is in the water that everyone (including me) is having such a hard time these days x.x

[arty-ari]

Wish me luck with sleeping at some point and not having nightmares. *finger guns*

[dragon-knight1990]

Going out for one of my favorite activities, only to have to interact with someone who looks just like one of my abusers.

[writers-passion84]

I'm having some quite horrific flashbacks right now to a few fairly traumatic events, and right now I'm just wanting someone to hold me while I'm curled up trying not to scream too loud into my pillow, and stroke my hair while this plays out, but nope... I'm alone, living through my own personal nightmare all over again.

[healingthebeast-blog]

Into The Void

He could smell the blood, feel it through his gloves as a tacky, sticky mess. He was coated in it. Even the  field looked like it had been made of blood rather than unkempt farmland and the scattering of remaining forest that desperately clung to life. Gilnean men and women were scattered along the battlefield in clusters, fighting, pressing their attacks and being lost to chaos in the sway of battle. Others were wounded or in pieces, bleeding and calling out for help with high pitched wails. His world had become blood, weapons, and desperation.

Darrock stood among the carnage, eyes wild and alight in the vibrant glow of his spellwork. His chest rose and fell with heavy gasps and pants as he pulled in energy from the world around him, calling natural forces to his fingertips and binding them within the strands of his own being. only to be released in the emerald mists and blankets of healing over soldiers around him, and the flares of flaming balls of golden wrath aimed for those forsaken that  managed to get too close.

Sylvanas’ forsaken had come in a rotting wave from Silverpine, just as the reportsfrom the seventh legion had claimed they would. The Gilnean front had prepared for the assault, well warned and eager to meet the undead force head on in the field to drive them out and attempt to reclaim their home. It almost seemed never ending to Darrock, the assaults and curses. To the Gilneans, and Darrock, this was simply the newest in along line of invading tragedies for the walled kingdom.

It didn’t take long for the forsaken soldiers to figure out that the scraggily black haired young man with the bow staff  was one of the few medics left to the Gilnean armed forces. Before long ten medics had become four, and Darrock was finding the forsaken turning their attention on him and the small contingent of soldiers he’d been assigned to aid. He stood out like a beacon, literally glowing in the center of the Gilnean army as he wove his supports and defenses. He watched them advance in his direction, having known that eventually he would be next. He couldn’t blame them, it was simple tactics.He just hoped he was strong enough to make it through.

Constant casting strained his system. He felt like he was burning a wick too low, every nerve and muscle burning, weakening what he could offer in aid and defense, though that didn’t stop him from continuing to draw from himself, to force each spell from him until his fingers blistered from untamed energy and his vision blurred.

Darrock managed a final spell, drawing on everything he had in the casting. He held it as long as he could until his legs buckled under him and fell to his knees. It felt like his mind was in a heavy fog, filling his ears with clouds and blurring his vision. His entire body trembled, vibrating so much it almost looked like the battlefield shook with him. He stared at it in fixed fascination, blinking slowly.

Screams shattered the fog in his head, human and forsaken voices rising in surprise and fear and drawing his blurred gaze into focus and back to the battlefield... and suddenly skyward as the earth gave a heave under him and bucked him into the air.

Darrock flailed in surprise, landing stomach first on the cracked ground, the  air exploding from his lungs in a painful rush. He gave a small prayer that he didn’t bite his tongue clean off when his teeth slammed together on impact. Wheezing heavily and shaking his head free of the fog, he struggled to get to all fours, his attempts useless when the world launched him airborn once more, an ear shattering crack filling his ears as the rest of the ground snapped apart beneath him and dropped away into nothingness.

“Help!” he heard himself scream, spinning wildly upwards in a flail of limbs, biile rising up his throat in a wash of sour and heat and threatening to erupt in a spray of venison stew and hardtac. Or what was left of it. The only thing he could think of as his ascent came to a halt and left him suspended, was that the stew actually tasted better coming up then it had when he originally ate it.

And then came his descent.

He hit the sudden rush of ocean water as it crashed inland, filling the breaks of the earth left by the sudden cataclysm and swallowing what remained of the battlefield and it’s combatants, encroaching inland and dragging Darrock with it in a mad tumble of bubbles and mud.

Debris and bodies crashed into him as wave after wave rolled over and under the small medic, dragging him and pulling him deeper. He clawed at the water, kicking madly through the turmoil of bubbles and branches, not sure what way was up and desperate to find it. He wanted air,  needed air, his lungs straining with what he had managed to gulp in before he went under. His chest was on fire and fear had long since rooted within his gut. Was this it? Was this the end of Darrock Ewaine?

His armor kept him from being shredded apart by stones and wood and other objects that joined him in the turmoil of rushing waves, though it greedily soaked in the water and weighed his limbs down, making every move, every panicked kick or stroke feel like he as engulfed in thick mud. Baring his teeth he forced himself to keep kicking, keep fighting. No, no he was not going to die here if he could help it, he refused to! He could see himself sinking deeper, the hope of the light above dimming until it blotted out fully under the gnarled length of an old oak.

Darrock struck the sinking tree hard enough to force out a scream of pain in a blast of bubbles. It snared his armor, branches clawing through the creases between the leather and hooking him in. Panic overtook him and he thrashed against the tree’s hold, kicking, pulling, clawing at his buckles and hammering at the branches. He couldn’t breath, there was no air, he couldn’t get free! He gulped in by accident and felt the rush of cold water collide within his lungs, suffocating him.

Darkness creeped into the sides of his vision as consciousness left him, the roar of a shadow in the background bellowing into existence. He felt the oily caress of the void wrapped about his legs and his arms as it drew him down, down, down...

He was falling again, icy air rushing past him and his hands filling his vision, twisting and pulling through the mechanics of a spell.

Sunfire spiraled around him, engulfing him in golden fire and hammered into the tendrils of darknes. The void screamed in his ears, shrieking in high pitched tones of pain and need that made his teeth itch and sent a chill down his spine.

Darrock flailed in the fall, watching the sky helplessly above him until the ground rushed up to catch him.

Fresh snow exploded around him with his impact into the drifts of Corprethar, flaring his vision white with pain and blasting the air from his lungs in a fiery rush that left him writhing in agony.

Darkness... darkness.. never ending darkness, always hungry, always hunting, grabbed at him with inky tendrils and flowed over him, filling his mouth and nose and lungs with it’s oily mass. It contorted grotesquely and coiled about his throat.

He heard someone familiar screaming, his voice? He was screaming. But it seemed so distant, as if it was in another world in a different time from a different Darrock. He twisted and thrashed against what held him, trying to free himself, gasping for air and clawing at his chest and throat....

...and then he was on the floor beside his bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling of his apartment with his legs and arms trapped and tangled in his blankets, the last part of a scream dying in his throat. He heaved a shuddering breath in and blinked himself back to reality, letting out bark of terror at the sensation of being trapped int his sheets and kicking at the blankets, yanking his arms free in a desperate flail and sitting up. He clambered backwards until he struck the wall with a hard thump.

“Mnah” he grunted, the wall cold against the heat of his bare skin. He was drenched in sweat, hair hanging in soggy strings down his face and trembling shoulders, dripping to his chest and bare stomach. He panted shakily for breath and frantically looked around his room as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t still stuck in a dream. 

“H-home, just a nightmare...” he gasped, clenching his eyes shut and rubbing his face furiously in his hands. “Just a dream” he told himself again.

Slowly he drew his legs up to his chest, rocking slightly to ground himself and try to ease the violent shake of his naked body, closing his mind off to the world, mentally hiding.

He didn’t even hear the clatter of armor down the hallway as guardsmen responded to his previous screams,