#rape recovery

[desultory-suggestions]

Healthy Relationships with Mental Illness Look Like

I acknowledge my struggles and that they are not your fault, but I am hurting and I want support <-> I felt that you were struggling and was unsure of what I can do, I want to help so what might help me support you in a way that’s healthy for both of us?

I am aware my emotions are unusually intense today and that may make me very anxious or reactionary <-> Thank you for letting me know, I respect your feelings and I will support you while also taking care of my needs. What would be comforting right now?

I love you but I am feeling too overwhelmed to support you in this moment. Do you think that you can call a friend or loved one for some support so I can l can take care of myself? <-> Thank you for telling me. Yes, I can use my support system to help me through this. We both deserve rest and support. If you want to talk about this when we are feeling better I would like that. 

[lem0n-a1d]

Hey guys my hypersexuality is not hot or sexy I feel fucking disgusting because of it and I literally cannot help it please do not fucking enable me or joke about it even if i joke abt it first it does not fucking help/dir

[useless-moss]

Thank you, anon, for the idea <3

CW: Rape recovery, Viggo-centric, flashback-esque noncon scenes, bit of a character study tbh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viggo can't sleep. He can't even think. He's been a complete mess for almost an entire month now, and nobody knows why. They've asked, of course. Wondered aloud if something happened at the meeting he insisted on attending alone. "I can handle myself," he'd said to Ryker multiple times before his departure. Viggo had even scolded his brother for doubting him.

Rough hands in his hair and on his hips, holding him down like it was nothing. Was he against a table or the floor? He can't remember. He doesn't want to remember. He doesn't want to be in this moment at all, but harsh fingers and cruel words keep bringing him back.

Viggo flinches around his men now. It's subtle, just a slight jerk when someone gets too close and shying away from any physical contact, but it's noticeable. Especially to those who know him well. Especially to Ryker.

Viggo doesn't cry. He prides himself on that. He's spent years hardening himself against pain, both physical and emotional. Which makes the horrid experience even more humiliating. He wasn't even sure when the tears had started. Somewhere between the pain shooting up his spine and the degrading words being hissed into his ears, if he had to guess. All he knows is they won't stop, and he can't hear his own voice anymore. Because, surely, he's not the one crying out like that. Right..?

The memory almost hurts more. After the fact, it's almost worse. The self-deprecating thoughts that echo within Viggo's mind every time he tries to find a moment of peace. Reminding him of how weak he'd been. How easy he was to overpower, how the pain lingered for days afterward and still occasionally resurfaced as a phantom sensation that left him wincing.

Viggo wasn't sure if the worried, almost pitying looks from his men made it worse or not. On one hand, they cared, and that was kind of sweet. On the other hand, they felt like they had to care, and that made Viggo feel pathetic. Made him feel like he was weak. Like some small, scared creature that needed to be coddled.

Like something fragile that could break if someone even looked at him wrong.

[2012wannabe]

the conversation

cw/tw: r*ape and trauma from it, basically reader having to tell Abby about it because it would impact their sex life ie me having to have that fucking conversation w my partners irl and it making me want to kms. based on the dream I had last night, can you tell I’m nervous about my date on Friday 😭😭😭 anywayyy reader isn’t described at all so it’s no my technically f!reader although I always write with that in mind

wc: 644

Laying with Abby, your head on her thighs, you stared up at her with your heart rattling in your chest. You were going to have the conversation with her but the words just wouldn’t work.

I just wanted to let you know…

I was…

When I was younger, there was a guy and…

Your voice became dry, your eyes threatening to become watery. You just didn’t want to ruin everything. The conversation had to happen at some point, you were going to have sex eventually and the last thing you wanted was to freak out during sex and have her think it was her fault.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked, her voice interrupting your thoughts. You adjusted yourself so that you were sitting normally next to her.

“I’m okay, I just wanted to talk to you.” Her face quickly turned into an expression of concern and you rushed to correct her.

“You didn’t do anything, it’s not that. It’s me.” You paused and took a breath. Well, I have to do it now.

“As our relationship develops there are just a couple things you need to know about me. About something that happened to me.” Your breathing started to pick up and your hands started to shake.

“When I was younger, a guy, he uhh…” You trailed off. You hoped Abby would just get it so you didn’t have to say it but nothing is ever easy, is it?

“I was…” sexually assaulted and raped. Tears started to form in your eyes and you unsuccessfully tried to blink them away. Abby immediately tended to you, holding your hand and reaching to get you tissues. The gesture alone could make you cry and sob. You tried to get more words out but you just sat there, mouth open. More tears flowed and you repressed the sobs that wracked your body.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“I want to continue to be with you, I want to be intimate with you so bad. But I can’t without having this conversation.” Abby had started to put the pieces together and her heart broke into another piece with every tear. She reached her arm around you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Would you like to write it down?” She asked. You nodded yes and like that a paper and pencil were being thrust into your hands.

I was raped.

You slightly scratched out the last word, almost trying to make it better somehow. Abby nodded, carefully guarding her own reaction and expression to watch yours.

There are places you can’t touch me, certain things you can’t do because I’ll cry.

You resisted crumpling up the paper and throwing it to the side. All your emotions swirled around in your head like a tornado and you were dizzy. You wanted to bury yourself into her side and let her comfort you but also run away at the same time. Abby pulled you in for a hug and by then you were just blankly staring into whatever object was in your eye-line.

“I’m really happy that you felt comfortable enough to share that with me and I’ll do my best when we are intimate to make it as good as possible for you. If you want to, we can establish non verbal cues so that if you get triggered during sex you can easily let me so I can stop. I would never want to do anything that would hurt you.”

Abby was too good, too kind. It was almost overwhelming sometimes.

“Thank you. I would love that.” You said with a sniffle.

“Another time I can tell you what those things are exactly but not now.” Abby nodded,

“Okay. Whenever you’re comfortable.”

“Thank you. Just thank you.”

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 No. 26 - Nightmares

06/04/2018

In retrospect, the decision to build the cemetery in the Mutant High back garden, right by the man-high wall that protected Mutant High from outside attacks and prying eyes, had not been the smartest. This necessary security for the residents also inevitably meant that on some days, it was difficult to find the necessary peace and quiet in this place. The nonstop quiet electric hum of automatic guns and generators able to activate electric fields within fractions of a second for additional protection, made it difficult not only for mutants with heightened senses, even that far from the always-busy buildings, to let themselves fall into the meditation of complete silence.

And it wasn't the cool temperatures in the shadow of massive rock that had you shivering on the difficult walk to the small patch of lawn. The rose bushes that Ororo had planted alongside it back then couldn't hide the sterile, trimmed meadow where nothing really seemed to grow, as if the omnipresent mourning over this part of the mansion would have been souring the soil. The sight of one of the two graves, pompously adorned with a snow-white, tall marble stone and still decorated with lavish flower arrangements from residents and visitors even after all these years, couldn’t manage to brighten this gloomy atmosphere. Especially not if you were one of the few people in the know about there never having been a body in Charles Xavier's coffin. The second gravestone was of a much simpler design; only eight carved letters with the circular symbol of the X-Men above them and a stylized bird on the back. And yet it was only this grave that Ororo had been leaving a new rose in front of every morning for 17 years now. This grave, especially on difficult days like today, Xavier's remaining warriors were gathering in front of, to mourn the one from their midst who had really died. Which had left a gap in their group that had never been closed.

In view of today's events, Scott had expected his wife to show up here sooner or later, too, so it didn't surprise him that someone was already standing at Jean's grave when he wanted to take a few minutes to catch his breath there himself after the last preparations for tomorrow. He discreetly remained in the background for now, not wanting to disturb Katja in her deep contemplation. But he could hear her, the quiet words she told her deceased friend, which the two of them had never been able to exchange during Jean's lifetime, while Katja was fidgeting with a long wreath of flowers between her fingertips. Her tear-choked whisper echoed in his mind though, thanks to the mental link having grown stronger and stronger over the years, that Jean as Dark Phoenix had created between them back then. Scott wouldn't even have been able to not listen if he'd wanted to. If he'd wanted to avoid the pain that Katja's words were causing him.

No, it wasn't a good day, not after what Angelica had so ruthlessly revealed to them about a man-made virus killing more than a hundred mutant kids in what had been supposed to be a sanctuary camp. Even if the X-Men, thanks to this new crime committed by the same psychos of all things, would now finally get answers, would maybe even be able to bring Jean's killers to justice ... Then justice might be served, but it couldn't erase the grief.

“How I wish you were here right now, Jean.” Katja wiped her eyes absentmindedly. ”How I wish you could see our girls, especially today. They're just like we were back then. They can't wait to go into the field properly. I'm so fucking scared for them.” A confession choking Katja's whisper so much that now it was only sweeping through Scott's mind like an icy current, just as painful as Katja's anger earlier during that discussion earlier. Katja, too, crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest, as if she were suddenly freezing out here in her thin top, despite her mutation-induced temperature resistance. A few raindrops caught in her dark mane of worn-down hair. “I'm scared shitless for them, you know? But I promised you. I'll look out of them, no matter what comes. Noemi and Sassy will be fine. I won't let that happen. Never.” The last word became a hiss of hatred aimed at the X-Men's newest enemies in particular. After a brief kiss on her fingertips, Katja let them rest on one of the half-opened flowers of her small gift, after putting down the latter on the grave's pedestal, right next to the weatherproof bowl of fire that had been stoked by a different Mutant High resident every morning for almost two decades now.

Only when Katja remained in her hunched position, her forehead resting wearily on her bent knee, did Scott approach her.

Of course, she must long have sensed that he was standing behind her and didn’t flinch when he gently rested his hand on the back of her neck. She turned her head to the side, revealing her tear-stained face to him without hesitation, and breathed another of those tender kisses on his knuckles. She didn't want to talk; about this subject, they'd rarely done that since back then, but she was glad he was there. “We good to go?”

“Our Cajun and the rookie will have to be working through the night, and Bastian's still asleep, but you guys are all set up for takeoff.“ Scott pulled her up and lovingly took her in his arms.

“If Marie ever finds out that you still call her that, you'll be in a coma for a month,” Katja murmured against his shoulder, trying desperately to distract him from what was weighing down on her so heavily with regard to that trip to a certain other graveyard in Alaska tomorrow. When Scott didn't even show a weak grin, just continued to treat her neck to caresses and kisses, she let out a deep sob. “How can I let this happen? Why didn't I forbid Saskia this whole warfare madness when I still could?”

“So that she doesn't turn away from you and you can be there for her if she indeed might become one of us full-time, just as you promised,” Scott replied calmly. ”We knew that this day would come when we decided that we wanted a child, Katja.” It was his turn to sigh heavily when only a vague nod answered his quiet admonishment.

Katja knew he was right, but it would still take some time before she would be able to accept that. “I'm wiped.” Careful enough to be sure that she was at least no longer angry with him about a certain team constellation on the upcoming mission, she stepped back. “I better crash or I won't be of any use at sunrise.”

Scott took a closer look at Katja, the dark traces under her eyes that Katja's smudged make-up revealed, difficult to make out because of his limited vision. Great, just what he'd needed right now. “Nightmare phase?”

“Started the day before yesterday. It will pass, don't worry. Anniversary is yet to come after all,” Katja explained bitterly. Anniversary. By now, it had indeed almost been 18 years already since Scott's old arch enemy from his teenage days had assaulted her, back on that terrible day in the New York sewer system. 18 years of intense nightmares, often lasting for weeks at a time.

Scott took Katja's face between his hands, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. He'd managed to accept some of the terrible things that happened during that time of endless tragedy after Liberty Island, after Alkali Lake back then; to understand that fate had left them all no chance to change anything about certain things ... But he would die one day without ever having forgiven himself for not being able to protect Katja from his greatest enemy. “He's dead.”

“I know.” Katja had always been the one who, despite Scott's glasses, had been able to see the darkness in his eyes in such moments. And as usual, it was the hatred for himself over this atrocity that she'd never been able to talk him out of, that helped her to suppress her own grief and fear and to be as strong for him as she had become during the Phoenix crises at the latest. “Let's just go to bed, okay?” It was a little early for that, but no one would be in the mood for shared dinner together tonight anyway, and Hank and Ororo could take over supervision duty just as well. "Let's make the most of the time until Sassy comes back from her training." It was a request, not a demand, but Katja knew that Scott would never have been able to refuse one of those on an evening like this, no matter how much administrative work was piling up on his desk. The latter would still be patiently waiting for him tomorrow. Katja needed his closeness and care right now, to help at least try to forget.

On such nights, no matter how hard he tried to do his best, he could always see the tears in Katja's eyes, the old panic ... That wouldn't be any different today. Nevertheless, it would never have occurred to him to push her away.

That, Katja always made impossible for him anyway, at least since she'd recovered from her abuse trauma more and more in the course of the years, even without the help of a therapist, against all the odds – not least thanks to her studies to become a badly needed Counselor at Mutant High, as Scott suspected. Her insecurities having slipped away, she honestly was enjoying her nights with him again by now and also knew exactly how to initiate them most quickly, even when Scott, too, felt as physically and emotionally drained as on this depressing day. She waited for him on the bed with a genuinely excited smile after a quick shower of his, with her legs pulled close to her chest so that her tight jeans emphasized her cute behind, catching his gaze as he closed the thin folding door that somewhat provisionally separated the sleeping area from the rest of the apartment. That was enough for a little discretion; Sassy was old enough to roll her eyes and turn up the music in her room when she was around and things got too much for her. Or to spend the night at Noemi's.

Today, they were undisturbed. Scott could drop down next to Katja without hesitation, wrap his arms around her slim waist, testing the waters. There wouldn’t be any experiments this time. Right now, they both just needed a little of the peace and warmth that the mere presence of the other so close to their own could always provide.

Accordingly unhurried, Katja made a start, starting to unbutton his shirt, with her lips softly on his. With old routine, her fingertips avoided every single spot on his chest where scars documented his life in the field, especially the rough tissue graveyards on his right shoulder from Ontario Lake and on his hip on the same side, from the Scapels Moon. A yearning sigh escaped Katja when Scott buried his hands deep in the back pockets of her jeans, directing her well-trained body over his until she was kneeling above him. Her warm breathing was tickling his lips, followed by the playful tip of her tongue. Slowly, deeply, it slipped into his mouth, in the same calm rhythm that her hands were caressing his bare chest in, that his hands were guiding her lower body ever closer against his, letting her feel his rapidly growing arousal. Her fingertips teasing his nipples, her sharp nails pushed back the sensitive hardness with firm pressure until the delicate skin reacted with hundreds of tiny electric shocks to Katja's soothing kneading. A tender smile curled on her lips when a first moan left his mouth. Her groin was pressing into his harder and harder until Scott braced himself on the mattress behind him with both hands behind him, panting, his legs crossed behind Katja's back to keep her in this promising position. His shirt fell down his arms and was promptly held there by Katja's firm grip. Her eyes were sparkling teasingly when she leaned forward, looking up at him provocatively before her tongue was hotly tracing the line between his pecs, her increasingly rapid breathing nurturing the odd drop of sweat on his skin, without her mouth coming anywhere close to his nipples even once.

When it did at last, the heat of desire burned in his loins almost painfully, so that he pressed them against hers again in a helpless movement, holding Katja's hips firmly tight when she wanted to jerk away instinctively, moaning away shamelessly, until a first height darkened her eyes, caused by nothing more than that targeted movement of his hardness against her most sensitive point, through far too much clothing. Only now did Scott let himself sink down onto his elbows to finally get rid of his shirt completely, to give Katja a chance to pull her top over her head, open her bra, while she was still trying to catch her breath, trembling.

Her hair brushed his bare skin like a soft mane, her sweat-drenched face nestled closely against his chest, just for a moment, before she continued her sweet torment of his nipples as if nothing had happened, switching between these sweet caresses of her tongue and tormenting them with her teeth. Gently but firmly, she freed herself from the grip of his legs and scooted a little lower, her hands playfully stroking up and down his waist, repeatedly towards the waistband of his trousers without lingering there. She was playing. Another time, she could have dragged that out for hours, but Scott didn't want Katja to only have to escape into stubbornly keeping active that night to handle her grief.

So he forced himself to get the desire throbbing through his body under control, folding his hands on Katja's neck to pull her back in.

Her kiss was passionate, deep. She knew exactly how to drive him crazy with just a touch of her tongue against the roof of his mouth. She tasted of salt, of lust. Her body was shaking in anticipation again already; she let him feel it without moving a muscle, her hip pressed firmly against his.

Flipping them over to draw things out a little longer still was a challenge, but luckily Scott's life had been shaped by the need for such discipline since his youth. The tender touch of Katja's skin on his cheek made up easily for the sudden lack of her kiss when he pulled away. Her sweetish fragrance engulfed his senses, her beloved pure taste accompanying the path of his lips moving lower on her body. The softness of her beautiful curves filled his firm grip, her nipples hardening willingly against his tightening knuckles. His lips were avoiding her scars, too, caressing the sensitive skin that had been spared from those at the time, until not even the slightest tension had Katja's muscles cramp until she could forget, her back arching longingly when Scott stripped her off her pants and underwear as well before following that good example himself.

“Turn around,” she pleaded when his mouth resumed its journey up her bare, slender thigh, pampering her silky skin with hungry kisses. ”I want to touch you too.”

Actually, Scott hadn't had that planned, not tonight, when things should be about her feeling better ... But when he tried to reach for her hand to rest his lips on it dismissively, Katja pulled away and traced his cheek, his glasses, right below the swollen skin under his eyes, marked by tears that only she knew about. You need it, too.

Scott couldn't find the words to thank his wife for her endless care, her attention, and her affection, so he fulfilled her wish, getting down on his knees on the bed upside down, his hands spreading Katja's legs in invitation, caressing her sensitive inner thighs, his tongue tracing the delicate crease of her hips.

The fragrance of her desire lured him in before he'd even properly touched her, but she didn't stop for even a moment herself. Her hands slipped along his tense groin muscles while the tip of her tongue tip provocatively traced his rock-hard length. Her head leaned back widely, she caught the violent twitch going through his lower body. Hot wetness engulfed him, chopped breathing teasing the weight of his balls until he thought he wouldn’t be able to endure another second of this superiority of sensations.

Only when his mouth soaked up the glistening traces of her desire from her swollen folds, did her concentration waver, too, and she stopped taking him in as enthusiastically as if she wanted to bring it to an end immediately. Scott focused on these wonderful impressions of her well-known taste, her scent, the clenching of her muscles when two fingertips found their way into her hot tightness, and a bit of this overwhelming tension in his loins subsided. Ever until they found a firm, slow rhythm, Katja's skilled mouth repeatedly drawing him in all the way, in time with the circling movements of his fingers deep inside her, the game of his tongue at her most sensitive spot. The juices wetting his skin seductively washed over his senses, making it easier to ignore a dangerous twitching right there where all his want gathered in this one certain spot. A throaty groan threatened to trigger an old sensitivity in his lungs, which he immediately chased back to where it'd come from. His back was tense as if his spine was about to let out a protesting crack ... But somehow, he managed to pull away from Katja before she could provoke an orgasm that he didn't want to let happen this way, not today.

Her hips came to meet his in challenge when he came to her, her nails digging into his back. She was so temptingly tight and wet when he took her that for a second time, he could hardly hold back. And the way she was biting her lower lip almost painfully, rutting her hips violently against his, it was probably no different for her.

All by itself, his hand sneaked between their bodies, coming to rest on that one spot he had already just attended to so enthusiastically. A brief, firm rub with the tip of his thumb was enough to make Katja come a second time that evening, to banish all worry from her pretty round eyes, even if only for a short time. For tonight, that was all they could give to each other.

It was Katja's turn to wrap her arms and legs around him and flip them around cleverly before she'd even fully recovered. She blew his senses with a fast, harsh rhythm, knowing exactly how to make him completely helpless within seconds. In the last of the daylight falling inside, her bare breasts were shining with the heat of her desire, pressing into his massaging touch, the game of her muscles around him torturing his self-control. Her full, broad lips were a sweet temptation pulling away from him every time her body arched in her arousal. She was so goddamn beautiful, and Scott would never not see her this way, despite the many scars on her skin that still tormented her to this day. She was no longer shaking; the memory left her alone, at least in these minutes together, when Scott was able to show her the right, one of the most beautiful sides of love. And yet the sun hadn’t even set completely yet, Katja's body was still on top of his, their union not yet at an end ... That was when he could see the darkness return to her eyes already. Feel her in their slow kiss. Taste it in the salt on her cheeks when his lips caressed her face, every inch of it. It was not over, it never would be. Not on days like this. They didn't talk, but they both knew. At some point, Katja fell asleep, with her head pillowed on his chest, long minutes only after they'd heard the door to the apartment outside close and Saskia was trying to forget her restlessness about tomorrow in somewhat unmelodious German music from her computer next door. L’Âme Immortelle rarely failed at accompanying the threat of apocalypse with a cynically fitting sound. When Katja woke up in the middle of the night, long after she had curled up on her side, wisely turned away from Scott, her hand held the knife that always lay under her pillow even while she was half-asleep. When Scott gently took it from her and pulled her back against him, the tears began to fall again. They had found love that evening but no reassurance.

Ororo seemed to be right ... The arrival of Bastian as the sole survivor of this drama at the New York II camp had unleashed something evil. Even though he tried not to show it to Katja ... Scott was seriously worried about his family and friends for the first time in years.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[batrogers]

Summary:

Sky cannot escape his own nightmares; he definitely can do nothing to help Wind with his. It's his fault he hadn't kept the two of them safe in the first place, after all. (Time does not agree.)

Rated M for rape recovery, and discussion of past child abuse. A very dark kind of hurt/comfort. Sky & Time relationship.

Definitely read the tags before y'all go there.

[desultory-suggestions]

“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.”

― Francis Scott Fitzgerald

[the-best-kung-fu]

HEY GUYS!

Here’s the first fic of @jotarosbigbooty​ and I. It’s an omegaverse Jotakak! 🍒⭐️ A HUGE thank you to @therainisnotclear or being our beta!

Cover by me!  🇺🇸 English version: http://archiveofourown.org/works/46057486… 🇧🇷 Versão em PT-BR: https://www.spiritfanfiction.com/historia/heavens-on-fire-24761126/capitulo1 

[book--wyrm]

Chapters: 10/?

Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV)

Relationship: Alicent Hightower/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Mysaria | Lady Misery/Alicent Hightower

Summary "You need not watch," Mysaria reassured her as Rhaenyra stumbled back in horror, her breathing coming quick. "The breaking of a bed slave is an ugly thing—but I assure you the method is sound. She will be perfect by the time her training is complete." OR Mysaria broke Alicent; Rhaenyra tries to put her back together again.

Mind the ao3 tags on this one this fic is dark, but I hope, not gratuitous. Progress bar: [=======30%===============]

[sciencefantasy93]

Due to the heavy nature of this fic I feel a little weird posting it here, but here we go: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51888559/chapters/132755938

Please, please, please mind the tags!

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

From Eden

Eden was never a symbol of perfection

Aphrodite was never a symbol of love

Love to the Greeks meant madness, meant that someone had fallen too far

(I never loved you

I thought I did

You told me I did)

But love is not Cupid’s arrow forcing you to fall

It is not gravity, pulling inescapable force

A black hole, sucking away at what makes you who you are

Love is choice

It means something

To the Enlightenment thinkers, gravity was all-powerful

The gravity of love destroyed me

You are not a superhero, seeking to save the day-

If you want to be a hero,

I name you Hercules, killer of families

I name you Adam, the first misogynist

I name you Orpheus, obsessed and unable to not look back

I name you Jason, betrayer of wives

I name you Hamlet, mocker of weakness

I name you David, widower of lovers

I name you tragedy

You will not destroy me

I am not tragedy

I am more than the damsel to your savior,

more than prologue to your redemption,

more than aftermath to your tragedy

(I should not have to save you

I cannot save you

I do not want to save you)

I am Eve, Jocasta, Eurydice, Ophelia, Andromeda, Bathsheba

I am Lilith, Echidna, Medea, Angrboda, Nut, Nyx, Loki

(I am the mother of monsters)

I am every wife wronged

Every lover betrayed

Every boyfriend raped

Every partner abused

Do not name me damsel- you have no right

I will name myself monster

I will become monster

Eden will fall and I will rejoice

I will not get thee to a nunnery

I will sire monsters to rule in my place, rage to burn the system down

I will turn myself into a bullet, into a weapon

You were supposed to be Heaven

You devoured me and spat me out into Hell

You call this anger, an overreaction

They say that you do not deserve this

(I did not deserve your abuse, your poison

I did not deserve a bullet when I kissed you

I did not deserve betrayal when I loved you)

This was not an overreaction

If I’d stayed with you I would have died

Maybe not today, but tomorrow

I would have been Ophelia, exiting before Act V

I would have been Eurydice, stuck in Hades for eternity while you escape

I would have been Medea, my husband a traitor and my children dead

I would have been every virgin sacrificed to their partner’s “needs”

I would have been victim, damsel, leaving forgotten in order to give you your happy ending

This is my battle cry

(I have spent too long your victim

I cannot be your punching bag anymore

I cannot be your fanatic, your damsel, your cult of one)

(Tell me, darling, how this is love

It’s not

You can’t tell me otherwise)

Keep your Eden, your Aphrodite,

Your gravity, your cult, and your Palace

Keep your crown

(I loved you

You lost me-

Goodbye.)

[therxpediaries]

⚠️Trigger Warning ⚠️ - SA & DV

Notebook Entry #1 — Week of 4/9/2022

This entry contains what I planned to say, and what I said, to the person who SA’d me. The person who SA’d me is my now ex-boyfriend, but we were still dating at the time of this entry — and we dated for close to a year following the SA. I had been groomed, manipulated, and coerced into staying in the relationship for that long.

This entry details my thoughts and feeling regarding the SA, and my options on how to proceed with the relationship. I chose option 1, and my reasoning is described above.

National Sexual Assault Hotline (US): 1-800-656-4663

National Domestic Violence Hotline (US): 800-799-7233

[icypantherwrites]

Fic Update: Worth(less), Chapter Thirteen

Chapter snippet:

Barin still didn’t move and even though the angle wasn’t the best Lance didn’t think he was breathing.

Oh Dios. 

He’d, he’d actually…

Lance took a staggered step towards Barin. He didn’t know what first aid he could render, if, if there was anything he could do but…

But he had to try. 

Lance took another step forward, angling around towards Barin’s head where there was a definite puddle of blood starting to grow and Barin was so still and Dios, what had he done? 

He’d just, just been try to defend himself. He’d never…

Lance crouched next to Barin’s head, and reached out a trembling right hand towards Barin’s face, his left loosely holding onto his apparent murder weapon, and poked his fingers against Barin’s head.

Barin didn’t move.

Dios.

He’d, he’d really—

Lance choked on a scream equal parts surprise and fear as Barin’s hand darted out, latched around his ankle and yanked. 

Read it here

(posted up to chapter 10 on AO3)

[gayisslayyyy]

Thank you so much I needed to hear this. To anyone, any poor soul that some scum took thought to take advantage of you are strong and loved. That worthless piece of shit will get what they deserve but you my friend are safe now. You didn't do anything wrong and you didn't deserve that. Go do something nice for yourself. If you like drawing draw. If you like writing then write. If you like a TV show or YouTube video then go watch it.

You do not deserve pain. You do not exist to suffer. I know in your darkest times it is so easy to feel that you deserve this agony but you do not. Your life will get better, and you will receive the love and kindess you deserve.