#tw flashbacks mention

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!

[fizziepopangel]

No Bad Vibes

“Please, don’t!” I cried as Lute approached me, ripping my weapon from my hands and tossing it aside. I backed up, stumbling over something and falling back into a puddle leaking from the nearby dumpster. “Lute, please don’t do this. Please… You’re my friend!”

Lute looked down at me, scoffing. “You’re just as pathetic as Vaggie.” She spat, raising her spear, not even a hint of remorse in her eyes despite me thinking that we had been friends. “You deserve to rot in this hellhole just like that backstabbing, demon-fucking whore!”

The pain of her spear piercing my skin was so intense that I couldn’t even scream. Blood gushed from the wound across my cheek as I fumbled for my own weapon, my efforts cut short when my friend’s boot slammed down on the back of my hand. I didn’t have time to cry out before I felt her grab a fist full of my hair, tossing me against a wall as if I were a ragdoll.

Blood gushed from wounds, but the pain was too intense to tell where exactly I was hurt; it felt like everywhere. I was struggling to breathe, only barely getting to my hands and knees before I felt it; searing pain around the base of my wings…. Nausea hit me and there was this ripping and suddenly, my vision went dark….

I woke up drenched in sweat, my chest tight as I shot up, clinging to the blanket I had burritoed myself in at some point throughout the night. The scars on my body seemed to ache as if the wounds were new, yet somehow I felt numb as I sat there, eyes focused straight ahead into the darkness of the bedroom.

“You have another nightmare, princess?” I jumped, head snapping toward the doorway where Husk stood, undoing his tie. Although I hadn’t heard the hellcat come in, I couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded me seeing him standing there.  

“I…I..” The words wouldn’t come, so I just sat there, shaking my head and holding onto the blanket, tears slowly beginning to roll down my cheeks.

Husk made a soft sound of sympathy as he crossed the room and took his place in bed beside me. “Aw, princess, don’t cry..” His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his side. “The scars botherin’ you again? You want me to rub ‘em?” He asked, carefully wiping the tears from my eyes.

Nodding hesitantly, I let the demon slip my shirt off and direct me back to the bed. I wait a few moments before feel the cool sensation of the cocoa butter against my back. I couldn’t help but stiffen; despite having done this multiple times since we had been together, I couldn't help but be self conscious at the fact that he could see the deep, jagged scars down my back where my wings once were.

His pressure was gentle as his hands massaged the scars. “They ain’t as sensitive as they were before.” Husk said in a soft, gruff voice. “I guess Vaggie was right about massaging ‘em helpin’.”

Humming in response, I let my eyes slip shut, trying to ignore the thoughts of the day I fell. It was a moot point with Husk working to massage the angry scars down my back. “Thank you…” I mutter softly, though I knew it was probably muffled and hardly audible with my face buried in the bedding as I lay there.

Husk let out a chuckle, placing a kiss between where my wings once were before gently rolling me over and pinning me to the bed. “You ain’t gotta thank me, princess, I may be a grumpy old man, but I’d do anything for you, you know that.” His eyes filled with something I hadn’t really seen before, but something familiar all the same as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. “And I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you like that again.” 

Before I could say anything, Husk had moved, grabbing a fresh set of blankets and a fresh set of pajamas for us each. “Charlie said carrying bad vibes with ya ain’t healthy so come on, let’s get you into somethin’ you ain’t had any nightmares in.”

A giggle bubbled up in my throat as I got up to change. “So you believe in bad vibes now?”

“Nah, I still think it’s a bunch of bullshit.” Husk chuckled as he spread new sheets over our bed. “But I believe in you gettin’ your beauty sleep.” He teased.

Smiling sleepily, I flop onto the bed, nightmares and pain forgotten as I lay on the fresh bedding. “You’re coming to bed too, right?” I ask, giving him my best puppy dog eyes. “I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

The hellcat let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. “It’s poker night, baby….”

“Please?” I pout my lips slightly. “I wanna cuddle.”

“Ugh… Fuck…” He sighs again as he laid down beside me, pulling me into his chest. “You know this may be the first time I’ve ever skipped a poker night for a chick?”

“I love you too, Husk.” I yawned, already snuggling into the hellion’s soft, warm fur, feeling safer than I had in a long while as I listened to him grumble about missing his poker game while he continued to stroke my back gently. Nothing mattered in that moment, not my past, not my scars or how I got them… In that moment, it was just us.

[arlecchinasmainblog]

More Epic Angst

It’s the middle of the night and shouting can be heard from the king’s chambers.

“Get your wretched hands off of me! I am done enacting your vile fantasies!”

It’s happening again.

“Odysseus, my king, my love, it is I, Penelope.”

But he couldn’t recognize that. Not now anyway.

“You are not! You are not! Cease veiling yourself as my wife you evil witch!”

Despite his wife’s gentle words, he couldn’t see her as he rocked in the fetal position; squinting his eyes shut as if he were a child hiding from an imaginary monster.

“Why must you take joy in tormenting me! I just want to go home! I just want to be home!”

The poor man cried in vain. And all his wife could do was weep. For she could not help her husband escape the prison of his confabulated captor. She could not free him from the prison of his own mind.

[namusass]

i cannot describe how disappointed i am in you all. im watching Ballerina on netflix and i come to tumblr and you're all thirsting after the guy? the guy who is a serial rapist and blackmails women into slavery? why on earth would you go for that when there is SO MUCH SAPPHIC CONTENT??????? do better, im so serious, these gays deserve so much more content. i wanna see so many gifsets, so much fic, these women are GAY and IN LOVE Ok-Ju kills SO MANY DUDES FOR MIN-HEE

[lacetrauma]

im sorry that i don’t have much to say anymore. im not as creative as I used to be

[hersurvival]

Black.

Blue eyes.

Blacked out.

Fading, falling.

Fighting for consciousness.

Every night when I start to drift,

Nodding in and out,

I'm back.

Left at a party, a bare mattress

On the floor in a back room.

Briefly awoken

By him sneaking in.

"Hey. Hey," he coos,

"It's me, we met earlier."

[opheliajupiter99]

A Word to the Wise Pt.3

The found family of the Carnivale tried for what felt like forever to get Gricko stand up, to tell them what happened, to ask why he was covered in blood, to ask what had happened to Hootsie, and where she was. Sadly, they had an educated guess, not just because of the blood, but because of Gricko's traumatized, blubbering state as he laid in the blood, curled up in the fetal position and muttering nonsense.

Ultimately, Gideon had to carry Gricko back to the camp himself, the poor goblin seeming so shaken by whatever he'd seen that he didn't even seem to know where he was at the moment, lost in endless replays of the horrors he'd witnessed. Frost, though dreading what he might see, delved into his mind to see what had happened. The normally calm and collected Frost pulled out of the vision quickly, rearing back from the side of his friend and gasping, covering his eyes.

The Tabaxi shakily informed the others that, somehow, the Sowpig from the Witchlight Carnival had returned, and rather than recapture Hootsie, had outright killed her, his tone shaking upon reaching that horrid word. The ripple effect this caused among the carnies was immense, as to be expected, Torbek hugged his legs to his chest in the much the same fashion as Gricko, Twig burrowing her face into the side of Pigtunia and weeping, and Kremy attempting to calm everyone down, despite the tears clearly forming at the edges of his eyes.

As everything unfolded around him, Gideon Coal simply sat there, in silence, stunned, as the other words seemed to fade out for a moment. Finally, he shut his eyes tight and shook his head. "T-There's no fuckin' way!" He finally shouted, bellowing so loud the others turned to him in surprise, falling silent themselves. "This...T-This has gotta be a trick, man, there's no fuckin' way! I mean, come on! How the fuck would w-we not have heard it? There's no fuckin' way!" He shouted again, shaking his head violently back and forth.

Kremy looked between the others, then looked back to him, his gaze softening. "Gid...the last time the Sowpig showed up, we didn't realize -that- either. We couldn't perceive that fuckin' thing at all." Gideon once again shook his head. "Yeah, but it took her the first time! Why'd it just up and kill her? It don't make any fuckin' sense man!" Kremy opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it again. He agreed that it didn't make sense, for certain, but they also knew next to nothing about the Fae creatures they were surrounded with, beyond their penchant for toying with mortals. Perhaps the Sowpig had simply grown bored of the cat-and-mouse game and decided to finish it once and for all.

Regardless, the fact Gricko -saw- her death was undeniable, thanks to Frost's aid, whether it was a delusion or not. As such, they spent much of the remaining hours of the day tending to Gricko, who remained curled up and unresponsive, even as they managed to clean the blood off of him as best they could. Neither Gideon nor Kremy voiced it outwardly, Kremy due to his usual cagey nature, and Gideon due to his adamant denial, but as they laid in their sleeping bags that night, trying to sleep, they both felt immense guilt creep into the depths of their hearts.

Whatever had happened to Hootsie, she was gone, and neither of them had a chance to save her; they didn't even do the barest minimum and wake up. As Gideon started to drift off to sleep, he focused on that part in particular. Why didn't -any- of them wake up? When Frost retold what Gricko had seen, he mentioned that Gricko had screamed out in utter heartbreak - how had they not heard THAT if nothing else? Some of them not waking he could almost believe, but none of them? Not even Pigtunia, whose keen senses should've alerted her to something, if nothing else, the scent of fresh blood.

He didn't have much time to linger on these questions, though, as soon after falling into slumber, he awoke - or at least, it sure felt like it. He was sat up, on his knees and under a familiarly oppressive, ashy warmth, that filled the air so densely even one of fire could hardly breath. He attempted to adjust himself as he opened his eyes, but sound his arms outstretched at his sides, the shackles clung tightly to his wrists pulled outwards as the chains themselves were bound to the walls on either side of him.

He knew this place. He knew it far, far too well. He wasn't scared though; he'd had this nightmare more times than he could count, and in a weird way, the presence of it made him feel better. It reminded him that he had gotten away in such totality that the only Hobgoblins that could hope to torment him now were merely figments of his own imagination. No -real- Hobgoblin could do truly hurt him any longer.

That is until a pair of figures entered through the heavy door of his cell, two figures that rapidly shifted the seemingly ordinary nightmare. The first that entered was unpleasant, but not entirely unexpected; it was an especially tall and burly Hobgoblin, clad in heavy spiked armor, with steel toed boots, and various trophies dangled from the thick leather belt around his waist, trophies taken from various unruly prisoners. He recognized the man as a taskmaster from back at the trainyard, and while he rarely physical appeared, as he pushed most tasks onto those below him, the memory of his face was deeply engrained in his mind from his cruel ways, as many that imprisoned him were.

The odd thing about him in particular, though, was that this particular man wasn't dead; he'd -wanted- to kill him of course, but he wasn't physically at the trainyard on the day he escaped, likely living the highlife somewhere far away and getting off scot-free. Not only that, but the taskmaster also looked older - old enough to match the many years it'd been since he'd seen him last. Even at this, Gideon still had his doubts of this being real; his brain could cook that up, couldn't it? Sure, his dreams usually weren't quite this detailed, but it surely wasn't impossible.

That is until the second figure walked in, with a cold, uncaring stare that bore into the Genasi's soul - but unlike the first figure, that lack of sympathy hurt the man on a much deeper level.

Because the second figure, was Kremy Lecroux.

Much like the taskmaster, he looked as he would now, not the way he did in his past, and after a moment of staring down at Gideon, he looked to said taskmaster. "Got the coin?" He said simply, the Hobgoblin nodding with a gruff snort, pushing past a few of his trophies towards a pouch on his belt, and retrieving a hefty bag of gold coins, handing it over to the scaly conman without a word.

Gideon tried desperately to cling onto his denial, but something about this felt so, horrifically real. He tried to tell himself this was some sort of con, that Kremy was stringing this man along who had somehow recaptured the Genasi in the night, as a means of breaking him out later. But something about the way Kremy looked down at him. It wasn't just cold; it was almost akin to disgust.

"K-Kremy...Kremy, c-come on...w-what'd I do?" He said this, still trying to sound confident, but voice shaking a bit as he spoke. Kremy didn't look at him at first, keeping his gaze low and off to the side, crossing his arms. Gideon's brow furrowing. "Look at me, damnit! If ya gonna damn me, ya better fuckin' look at me!" After a moment of silence, Kremy did indeed finally turn his gaze to meet Gideon's. They stared at each other for a long moment, Kremy's gaze almost seeming to hold just as much disgust with himself as he did for Gideon in this moment.

"What'd I fuckin' do?" Gideon repeated, staring daggers at the gator. The gator's fists clenched at the shouting. "CAUSE IT'S YA FAULT HOOTSIE'S DEAD!" He shouted, fists clenched so tight he almost drew blood, tears falling down the sides of his face. Gideon's face changed from anger to horror. Whether this was factually true or not, the Genasi felt this was indeed the truth, and the idea that the man he cared about more than anything else was so wounded by this that he'd willingly hand him back to his enslavers, utterly destroyed him.

He was so shattered that any attempts at words promptly died in his throat, his face contorted into despair, before he finally just hung his head and began to sob. The pair stared at him indifferently for a moment, before both exited his cell, the mighty metal door slamming shut behind them, sealing the way and his fate all at once. Gideon just sat there, the only sounds his ragged breathing, his sobs, and the distant, muffled sounds of machinery. He was filled with an overwhelming feeling that he was where he deserved to be.

Back in the waking world, though, none of this had truly happened. The sun rose on a new morning, as each carnie woke up one by one. But much like his niece before him, Gideon was nowhere to be found, as if he'd somehow vanished into thin air. Also like Hootsie, however, there was indeed something left behind, though this time it wasn't blood.

All the further frazzled and panicked carnies found that morning, were a trail of drag marks burrowed deep into the soft mud, akin to chains dragged across the earth...

[discord-emote-customs]

snow leopard emojis ? :3

hi sorry friend i am infected with animal jam disease and i cant hear snow leopard or arctic wolf without having flashbacks

on a serious note , heres a sleepin snow leopard & a happy snow leopard w/ a speech bubble w/ & w/o the laughing animal jam emoji ^^

[and-yet-the-daisies-grow]

It's been a long time since I've watched something that gave victimhood the accurately complex portrayal it deserves, both in the immediate aftermath of the event and much later in life. But Baby Reindeer definitely accomplishes that.

I'm not entirely sure what to say. I want to give this show the praises it deserves but I feel like it touched me on such a deep level that I am left speechless.

So instead, I think it might be good to express how this show made me feel and continues to make me feel. It makes me feel seen, understood. There is this cathartic, itchy, melancholic feeling around my heart and in my throat. A part of the void within me has somehow been filled out and replaced with a sense of unshakeable community and understanding for both myself and my fellow victims.

Years ago, I was having a CSA flashback at a training session. My coach wrestled with me and I was hit with a devastating sense of powerlessness. Even though he is a good man and he would never hurt me, I knew that if he wanted to, he could. I was still the same weak defenseless kid, no matter how much older or taller or stronger I got, I would never be strong enough.

I dissociated and cried quietly for a long time. I thought the tears would subside, but they just didn't. A friend took me out of the gym to get some air and hugged me. My quiet crying got louder and louder, until I was sobbing like a little kid. And I'm not a sobber, especially not in front of other people. I've cried quietly for as long as I can remember.

This show felt exactly like that hug. It's pure comfort to a part of yourself you have deemed unconsolable, completely beyond saving. Like a part of you that was taken and sacrificed and tainted by the things that happened to you, and you'll never get it back. You'll never be able to calm it down, so you just numb it out with addiction and sleep and misery.

And then something terrible happens and brings this part out, and somehow, your environment reacts with kindness and love and empathy and sadness for you and rage towards whoever hurt you, and you realize that this part of you can heal, too.

So Gadd, if you're ever reading this, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for telling your story. Thank you for comforting a part of me that I thought could experience nothing but suffering. Thank you for showing it kindness and empathy and understanding.

Thank you.

[dying-weeds]

PSA for everyone:

Being told "good girl" is very triggering for me as I have been told this by multiple people who assaulted me while it was happening.

For the love of everything please stop telling people "good girl" or "good boy" if you do not know them or are not close enough to them to know their history. I just want to go to work and do my job not have a flash back to being assaulted just because fucking Jim Bob wanted to tell me good job.

[jay-wasreblogging]

cw: sui, sa mention below.

I think as someone who looks back on what happened to them with no emotions or thought whatsoever, that it hurts much more when people apologise to you for what happened or when they start to tell you how horrible what you went through was.

I was too young to know what was happening and even when I realised what had happened - I felt nothing because I always felt as if what happened was just something that happened?

It didn't impact my life the way it did for other victims/survivors, it didn't leave any lasting scar nor trauma. I sometimes forget it ever happened so when I tell ppl about it and their reaction is shock and horror, it makes what happened so much more devastating to me because omg you're right... you're right, YOU'RE RIGHT, YOU'RE RIGHT, YOU'RE RIIIGHHTTTT!!!, what happened was wrong!! What happened was disgusting, was shocking, was life altering!! SO WHY AM I SO CALM ABOUT IT!?!! WHY TF DID I TREAT IT LIKE ANY OTHER MINOR CHILDHOOD MEMORY!?!! 😭

[dragonsdenstudiosofficial]

The Pizza Knight Saves The Princess is a fantasy-comedy choose-your-own-adventure-style visual novel being developed by Dragon's Den Studios. Set on the planet Comestibla, where everything & everyone is made of food, we play as the Pizza Knight as he tries to save his beloved Water Ice Princess from the castle of the evil Chocolate Count. You can download the demo for free HERE: https://dragons-den-studios.itch.io/the-pizza-knight-saves-the-princess

Over the course of this month I'll be posting some of the game's art to this blog! This image is a sneak peak of content only available in the full release!

This image depicts a flashback that the Pizza Knight has to his childhood after drinking one of the potions. The bearded man is his father, the Pizza Slob, an abusive, negligent drunk who took the knight away from his mother as a baby for fear that if his mother raised him alone (as the slob was planning to run away from home to avoid conscription) the knight wouldn't grow up to be a man like him. Their most recent misadventure at the time resulted in the six-year-old Pizza Knight ending up at the same school that the Water Ice Princess was attending; she quickly befriended him and invited him to play using her cryokinesis to make snow for a snowball fight. However, the slob arrived and, in a drunken stupor, attacked her because he was offended by her using magic in public. Don't worry, the story has a happy ending: the princess' parents arrived and subdued the slob, resulting in his arrest and the Pizza Knight being freed from his abuser. (The kids in the background, hiding behind a pile of water ice snow, are classmates of theirs; the lime gumdrop boy is the insufferable genius type and the candy cane girls are twins.)

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Riot Kings, page 8D

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[a-totally-reasonable-username]

Watching my comfort show because i have a bad day. Get triggered by that one song from the soundtrack. Have a flashback. Have a seizure episode because my body can't handle adrenaline spikes. Now in need help of comfort... Maybe i could watch my comfort show?

[s-e-a-s-l-u-g]

hi and welcome to I am having. one of the worst times of my life and I feel absolutely alone.

[bittyfromquotev]

The Noise

He didn’t care.

It was too loud.

Everyone at the return parade to celebrate their victory in the war was having fun, but Sun didn’t care.

He wanted the noise to stop.

The sound of drums and trumpets and other instruments vibrated with power in his chest, rattling the metal and wires within his scarred body. He pushed his even more ruined brother along in a wheelchair as if he was nothing more than a S.T.A.F.F. Bot. He kept moving even though all he wanted to do was run away and hide. He wanted quiet. The large band parted eventually, forcing Sun to roll a crippled Moon and himself through the tunnel of noise.

The band grew ten times louder than before, blaring into Sun’s audio sensors and forcing him to hunch over. He tried to stand straight again for the people, he really tried, but he couldn’t. It’s as if his joints rusted in place.

He pursed what would be his lips together, biting on the soft material that made up his tongue. He would get through this even if he had to be reset because of the delayed reactions to his panic this would bring.

The band wouldn’t stop. As the rest of the military branches followed behind Sun and the army, the noise got increasingly louder. The civilians at the parade cheered with all their might every time someone announced something on the booming microphone. Images of a hospital flashed though Sun’s mind. A hospital. Snow. Red snow. The screams of the Ukrainian victims. The ones he and his comrades were unable to save. Moon’s leg, lying mangled in the dirty snow several yards away from who it belonged to. Instead of the overjoyed faces that were actually there, Sun saw faces of fading hope.

The faces of defeat that were plastered on the victims of the war.

His grip on Moon’s wheelchair tightened as he looked on. Luckily, it wasn’t long before they all came to a stop. The military that walked, the band that played, the people that cheered.

It all stopped.

However sudden it was, the relief was obvious as soon as his sensors processed the silence.

Sun didn’t care for Moon’s concerned gaze trained on him as he breathed a sigh of relief.

All was quiet.

He would be okay.