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indomitablemegnolia · 4 years

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I have been dragging this coffin around, like Django, for a while now, and for some reason American politics has to just keep poking at a seeping infected wound; as a psychologist I know that the best way to deal with certain emotions and PTSD is to talk it out, if you can talk past the ragged breaths. Now I am not much of a talker but I do write; I was thinking that maybe letting this out into the world might help someone or perhaps not fatally wound them by reading. I just know I have been keeping all of this way too close for way too long. I am going to try to do this so those who don’t want to know can avoid. I do add a bit of fantasy into it as my own default coping mechanism; so it is not just a barrage of horror. There are triggers... physical pain, blood, rape, and political triggers...this is me screaming into the void. If anyone reads this, I would hope that I could inspire a kind word.

Good god, what fresh hell is this? I swear that sometimes I have to just kick this evil darkness, beat it back, strike out with every weapon I have until it bleeds sunlight; oh, and when that first drop of sun falls I have to keep fighting until I am bathed in that healing glow, smearing it over my face, rubbing it in to my soul; reveling in the warmth of the end of a battle well fought and valiantly one worth the effort. This is always a rough two weeks for me every year for well 19 years now… the tenth falls and it seems some note really minor catastrophe befalls me; there has not been a skip year, a stand out or a delayed year; I will not whine about the past, but for the past three years it has been a political horror show on top of the menial financial, health, or personal failing; I focus on the possible and look up, which usually lands me down a manhole but I can’t change my stripes. In these last three years the shit-show of a congress (and congress is both houses equally guilty) put on these shows of caring and disdain, evil in its fake almost after thought of un-electability. Kavanaugh sent me into a bottomless tailspin; something about a Judge rapist being put on the highest court in the land on the anniversary of my own…attack; not that I think it sits any better in the pit of my stomach any other time of the year, but now… again… and I just can’t breathe, they had made my life all of the things I still struggle to live through… a joke, a pawn, something to leverage each other with… I am sick; politics making life, again, not worth living; nothing mattered, the truth did not matter, their ignorance, their lies did not matter. I find myself feeling rather Wilde; I was left feeling, broken, forgotten, as if I do not belong anywhere; there was nothing to lose myself in and no escape even if there were.

This country, this world, has become such a small, terrible place; I cheat, and I excuse myself, as I escape only by avoiding reality, I love the world that I create; but once there was a moment, out of time, such a terribly long time ago that I bring the memory to life often; for a time I had sunshine, and flowers, mud under my nails and rich coffee and I apologized to no one for who and how and what I am; I live with no thought regularly to why I should not be here and who I should be; yes, I do know that eventually I will die here, being banished to that other world where indeed I know because of the impermanence of life it will be as if I never did exist; every broken molecule of me will parish, every inch, every thought, but one. That molecule, that inch, that thought, its small, its infinitesimal, its worthless if you asked most, but in this world of whit and worry it is the only thing worth having; it is worth all the worlds in all the universes. I cannot lose it; I can not barter it or sell it and above it all it should never be given away. This world must get better, it must stop getting lost in all the things that are not real, such as money, race, all the false differences we draw between us; there is only one true thing about this world, there is no escape, so make your difference here and now. I must tell you, now that you see me, you know part of my life, my story and because of that I hope you understand that I Love you. I love you, despite never knowing your story, we may never meet, never laugh or cry together and I will never kiss or hug you, but I love you as dearly as my universe, as closely as a flesh and blood friend.

I love you.

It has been so many years, I hardly talk about it, but I warn you now this gets a bit graphic, but it is my story; this story is not being told for anyone else's campaign; it is not a #metoo. This is me taking a psychological victory, screaming my pain into this void like echo chamber; I know no one may hear me, and that is fine. This is one of Dante's hells I live in, wrapped deliciously in my favourite personal coping mechanism a piece of detached fiction that reads like a conversation between my super ego and my Id....

I sought freedom, the only freedom to be had in this world, music loud, the delicious truth of life’s simplicity; music is a true elixir, ideally it should be listened to at 60-80 decibels and 70 mph; everything can be made right if you just put the music on and the top down, drive 85 mph on a country road, as if you are trying to out run time itself. The sun low in the western sky; fat fluffy gray clouds float lazily over a layer of black, brooding, formidable clouds rolling in like the undaunting wall of night, mocking the artificial azure sky that lays at the last eighth of the sky, about to be swallowed up. Music playing too loud, I sang atonally along; the cool breeze of autumn playfully ruffled my hair as if I resided in a third visible universe in one place unattached to the storm or the artificial sunny day. The little silver dream I drove was cutting through the country side; coming up on a slower moving rusted out pick-up truck I worked the gearshift, not laying off the gas, dropping to fourth to pass, galloping ahead hard and fast, leaving the truck behind.

Suddenly, for the first time in ages the world almost made sense, err, I suppose it is awkward saying that because the sense it made was tenuous and momentary at best. Escape possible only by way of ignoring the horrors; after a week like the last, a little sensical nonsense was called for. I had to get away, I had to distance myself from the news and the bluster, the horrible reality; the reminders that weighed my heart, slammed my soul, obliterated my psyche; in my home, my home, the country I love, whose founding documents read of words like truth and justice; a vicious criminal is appointed to the highest court in the land; a man accused of raping three women; a charge that not so long ago would have precluded his admission; but that was then and this is now, basically more of a wild west, kangaroo, dumb-fuckery idea of conscience; we are now a people who allow the separation of children from parents, to be kept in cages. Now, because of this stupidity, people treating justice like a partisan football; horrible happenings from my past are brought front and center of my subconscious every night as I sleep. Yes, I have read books and listened to tapes as to how to guide dreams, none have prevailed.

Letting my mind wander, it was dangerous; and yes, it circled back to last night’s bout with Fate, Christ, she hit me hard and fast; for a figment of my imagination she really left me bruised, broken, bloody; I can still taste the sickly copper iron flavor of blood in my mouth, my soul limping. First. she took me on a trek into the past; tiny, horrible, years ago; Jesus, I realize, if this nightmare I carry heavy in my mind were a child it would be graduating high school; oh god, the thought, the kind that should never be thought; after, I was sentenced to a more vile prison, to a sentence more than double theirs, I see no possibility of parole from this place. I feel as if I were slowly being eaten alive; Fate, she held my face to the fire, she made me watch and relive it, over and over and over again.

I despise the fact something as delicious as this breeze can trigger panic, terror, horror; this feeling was, twice upon a time, in the valley of faded fears, my favourite season, now it sits heavy on me, like a box of babies tears. Though now, it is that recurring nightmare, I try to break free, but as he said in The Godfather ‘every time I think I am out, it drags me back in.’ I feel so pathetic, seriously, I earned my PhD in psychology, trying to outfit myself with all the tools; I should have been able to drown this demon long ago, but alas, I find the zombie bastard can swim; argh, and yes, I know that isn’t possible, no one can fight off all the memories, it's impossible to erase events, for anyone, most especially me.

Out of the blue it seems, a wonderful friend, a friend one which I didn’t know I still had; sadly I assume that I am always left behind, but she sent me in a tailspin of introspection; she asked me simply, 'are you okay?' A real flesh and blood human asked me, she noticed, she pointed out that I am not acting like myself; I have been tearing myself down, doubting the simplest things, I have even, in an odd way, seeking her approval; asking permission to hang my own pieces on my wall, my usual 'it's easier to ask forgiveness, than seek permission', attitude gone.

Gods, she is right, I know she is right; I am acting weird, different, calling myself stupid, pathetic, worthless; at first it started just stupid, small, subtle... most people bought that I was fine, they never saw it... I think. Anyways, they never called me on it. This friend, this good friend called me on it; I wrote a piece out of my usual character, at first, I loved it; then the next day in a mercurial hissy fit, I ripped into it, then in another flip I apologized for it, I am acting like a kid caught lying, obvious, blatant, guilty. This friend, ah, this beautiful friend called me on all my shit; like that guilty child, my psyche tried to hide it, then I stopped, I looked, really, I am. Then this introspection brought me to the realization that at times, not always, very rarely, I get weird, almost puritanical about sex. Usually I have a very laissez faire attitude; bi, straight, whatever flavour of the lgbtq or any other spectrum, if you get off on it, if you like it, then it's beautiful; there are people I love on all levels of depravity. It may even seem to them that I am a touch prudish because I do not partake, that is fine. Because this friend, this wonderful friend, shined a light, I could again see the bruises fate had left.

Fate had asked me, "so, if it is all good, what gets you off?" With that I was lost, nothing; everything; how was I to know? Of known experiences I have rape (not awesome) and a failed relationship (asshole never understood a thing I said, then tried to recreate experience #1); yup, two times lose on those. I know what I need, no desire, no require; with all the horrible mediocrity in this world that we seem to accept as fair sacrifice, I will not let love be among those. I want epic love, mad, passionate, crazy, undying, span the universes kind of love; anything less will be a poor substitute, meaning I can not, I will not let her take that from me; this is just one of those turns where nothing goes well. She shook me, and god, I had let Fate affect me.

The moment she reared her ugly head was pain. I was lost in a soft dream of sweet remembered soft kisses. Suddenly, a hit to my face, my eye starting to swell; a doubled fist to the gut, air rushed out in a horrible half scream. A hand wrapped in my hair slamming my head into a stony ground, again, that horrible haunting memory. Her voice chilling in a predatory growl, she wanted blood. She taunted me, "I KNOW what you wrote, hmmm, I know what you enjoyed, I told you; you can admit it, just to me, no one else is listening;" She ground her hips into mine from behind, "I know that you liked it, you loved it; I wonder, did you reach orgasm? Was it earth shattering? Did you moan like a whore?" Fate, that horrible bitch, licked up from my jaw to my temple, I stopped the urge to vomit, I felt my hate multiply, but in seconds I felt a turn inward, "You know that the hecklers are still right;" she raked her pelvis suggestively against me, three more thrusts.

"No, but it seems to get you off, dry humping me; hmm is the bitch in heat? So ya like my ass? I have been working out." She slammed my face down into the stone.

I let a painful groan escape, "You like the rough trade."

"Oh yeah," I ground out lifting my head turning to face her, "about as much as I like you."

She laughed cruelly, standing slamming her foot into my kidney. “Look at you, still so pathetic, still that laughing clown punching bag, you are always such fun; there is a lot to be said about consistency," slamming her boot into my jaw. "If it was not the roughness, the pain, was it the team effort? Now, remind me how many was it that you liked? Four or five? How many holes were the putting it into?" She ground her heel onto my palm, I try to stop the noise, a near scream, "how many holes?"

I smiled showing my blood outlined teeth, "This many." I held aloft a single middle finger.

Fate came to torture my soul time and again, with unlimited creativity; it has happened more than a few times in recent days; using more taunts, planting more doubts, inflicting more pain; cracking open my soul leaving it weeping and bereft. The more it happened the more I began to believe that she was right; yes, maybe I really enjoyed it; then I didn’t take the moment needed to breathe before I reacted this time out of emotion, gut check. She was right, they were all right; it was all I deserved; I asked for it, I had enjoyed it. Though that moment of introspection given to me by a gorgeous friend, gave me time to recognize this is actually an extreme rendition, interrogation tactic, the kind used in interviews at Gitmo; some good interrogators can even implant false memories, causing false confessions.

I woke from the nightmare; I gathered my own thoughts. I had to run; I had to hide. I hated; I hated the world and all the people in it, I hated myself and most of all I hated all this wasted time. If I had known Life before would I blame him, hate him… yes, right now, in fact I do.

I drove faster, not even slowing at bends in the road; why was I running? What good could it do? I know can not escape when the horror is inside my own skull. The green leaves starting to turn gold, some starting to age red at the edges. I whisked through the countryside, far too fast; it was liberating. God, this is my favourite season; there is something so sultry and libidinous about fall; I let go of the wheel, raising my arms joyous in the air. The feeling, the smell, the look, it seems to get my heart racing and my mind reeling; in pure celebration of the seasons change, the bite to the wind and the trill of cinnamon to the air, senses that are so much Life, oh me, oh my, oh my favorite things. Dark chocolate, eaten slowly, savored and enjoyed; passionate literature read in a hot bath tub that requires an entry like bugs bunny getting into the boiling cauldron; music, so many lovely perfect kinds of music, hard hitting, rampaging, soothing and truly sensual all appreciated savored and enjoyed… Please, Life... I need you. Why don't you come? I call to you, I miss you.

Before even fate showed the aphasia really affected my self-confidence; I no longer had my words, I constantly sounded either stupid or drunk or both, that had shaken me to my core; with both of those, it changed my own reactions. Then America, my home, is not helping, the president mocking a rape survivor, his little toadies backing him up. It just tore a hole in my psyche, in my soul, letting all these demons back. This is not me really... but what is me?

For me, after the attack, the police, they never doubted; the bruised and bloody the evidence abounded, they had no trouble even finding the culprits, but the faculty, the students... not so kind... I heard the whispers, they never looked at me, not the real me, I was just a disregarded scrap.

My lips hurt, they were cracked in two places, my ribs were bruised, all making me wonder if Fate was more than just my horrible subconscious. More than the conscience that makes a coward of me; makes me want to run for the shelter of a strong set of arms. My foot slacks off the gas pedal; I was losing my will to run, I realized that I was not able to run from this kind of mountain.

"Why can't you hear me?!” I yelled at the building clouds so hard my throat ached; they were heavy with rain. I saw the edges of refracted rainbows as they slid slowly in front of the sun.

Soft, so close to my ear, I felt the breath of Life. "But I did."

I swerved, nearly off the road, I screamed, slamming in the clutch not touching the brake, cutting the wheel sharply, putting the car into a full 360 spin, it almost came to a rest. "Jiminy Cripcity Roosevelt Christmas, man. You could have just killed me." I collected my galloping heart, letting the clutch out in 3rd gear screeching off the tires. He laughed, his words sunk in slowly, I understood his words and they angered me, I slid the gearshift into 4th, without the clutch; "Yeah, right, you heard me, sure. So, what you are saying that as usual when the world begins using me for a toilet brush, I am on my own; lemme guess, all for character building I am sure. Just go, I do not need you anymore. Just get out." I leaned into the gas, not caring the speed, anger making my eyes begin to run.

"What the hell was that?" He reached his hand over, gripping mine, "wound a little tight their honey; let’s get you relaxed” he started rubbing the inside of my wrist, my breathing slowed. "I wish, with every ounce of power I have, I wish I could have come when I heard your cries, they caused an ache in me so cutting so horrible, I cried. I don't know how I heard you or how I am here now."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." I jeered my hand waving him away. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, his expression was so hurt, “God, I shouldn't have mocked... I’m just angry, but not at you,” I took a long breath, “I am sorry" I whispered, easing off the gas.

"Then just stop, pull off the road, talk to me."

I sighed seeking that cognitive reset. "Okay." There was a wooded turn out just ahead. I pulled the car over, stalling out, killing the engine. I rolled my eyes internally; it has been ages since I stalled out. I swiped the little tears away. "So, what? What is it that you want?" My jaw set. "What?"

He sighed, seeing this was going to be an uphill battle; he reached for my hand bringing the palm to his lips; instantly my jaw slacked, and air rushed from my lips, "I missed you." He kissed the tender pad of my palm. "I know you have been in pain. Tell me what caused it; tell me haunts you." His fingers still softly drawing hypnotic circles on my wrist.

"Ah, pain, but where to start? We could do a chronological study into the beginning of pain; it might take a while." I try to sound unbothered.

"Where this pain, your pain, the one that has had you screaming, where that pain started." His face so beautifully earnest, and there is an importance to being earnest. “Please…” he breathed

"Words, it always begins with words, then those sticks and stones; they come hard."

He let one hitched chuckle out, "Wow, what a cop out." He dared.

I breathed again, then let it out slow, "Dammit really?” he nodded, “shit, with this whole 'legitimizing rape' floating around, taking even the one recourse for a victim of said crime has if it takes an unlucky turn. They have the audacity to mock and berate a survivor of a crime, I have seen them, mock hurricane victims, the disabled, they come just shy of saying that they want all of us defectives to die they put a rapist on the high court, now this monstrosity that will end my only piece of mind. My…" he held up his hand.

Clicking of his tongue stopped me. "No, not what I asked for Joan of arc, I was asking for the story, for this pain I see in your eyes, not a history of the worlds ills. I want your story."

"Eg, yeah, but that’s not important, it's really not even worth telling."

"Just stop; stop with the bullshit, stop deflecting; I want to hear your story, please, just tell me the goddamned story.” He gritted his teeth, “sorry, but I hate when you make light of yourself; you are making fun of my favourite person in the world, I am sorry just, please, just tell me."

"Cheese and crackers man, it is a horrid little pathetic thing. But fine." I take a breath, “Shit, my story…" I could not form the words. "hey, what’s better I could just tell you the tale of the little engine that should have known better, but still did it anyway.”

"No," he watched me closely, not letting his impatience show "I want to know your story, your pain, please."

"Shit, shit, shit, OK, shit... dammit," I hit the steering wheel, I pressed my forehead into the hard surface of the wheel, "but don't say I didn't warn ya. Shit” minutes passed, I said nothing.

He reached over holding my shoulders, "Honey, nothing that would make you too nervous to say, could be a waste of time, you are that fearless girl that never holds her tongue. Trust me, I think I can help." His thumb rubbed tenderly.

"I am neither fearless, nor am I a girl; I am a right old horrible spinster," I huffed, I fiddled with my fingers. I looked in his eyes; “I am" I stopped gathering my thoughts; "I don’t think you will like this as well as you think; I know what will happen after its all out, so, I must preface with a goodbye, you have been lovely. I know your opinion of me will slip; you won't want to know me after I finish, so thank you." He looked doubtful, but I knew, gods, I will miss him. "Before I start, I want to say, even if it means nothing to you, if no one ever tells you, I love you." A tear streaked from my eye, "What am I? Nothing," he shook his head vigorously, "look at me, I know most don’t think much of me, red round cheeks and usually a smile, no makeup and holes in my jeans; I have been told many, many, times after having conversations with people that my Naivety was endearing, but if I had ever encountered the real world my outlook would become as jaded as theirs. I may act like I have encountered nothing but sweetness and light in a noodle salad life, but that is far from the truth. I believe that you can encounter the worst that life has to offer and choose your reaction to it. You can stop believing in the world around you or you can continue to believe in kindness, understanding, and trust. Some say it is just denial, burying my head in the sand that allows me think that life is still what we make it… I Laugh and Laugh… If they knew what this girl, well, shit, here you go. Enough wasting time, I will get down to it. It's a shit story..." I wiped my hands down my face, the a swipe under my nose with the bad of my hand, then on my thighs, "shit," I sighed out, “Too many years ago it was a bright sunny day; a warm fall morning with a light breeze. I was worried about a calculus test; the biggest thing on my mind were cos A and sin B. I was on the phone ironing out a scheduling problem; I was talking to my internship mentor on the first cell phone in my family, dad got it for my safety because of my commute 90 miles to school. Jabbering on about what, I don’t even remember, I reached into the back seat for my bag. Sighing and hanging up the phone, preparing for the day ahead, or so I thought." I took a steadying breath, I had evaded long enough; I couldn’t meet his gaze, I just stared straight ahead out the windshield. "Suddenly, horribly brutality was introduced into my life; the surprise really isn’t as horrible as the feeling of helplessness; I was still bent closing the door with my hip I started to heft my book bag; my head caved in the rear door of my car; you should have seen it, truly impressive the damage a cranium can do." I remain in this protective tone, details curtailed "I was knocked out cold; I slowly came out of my haze I felt pain, searing horrible pain, but not my head, I heard ripping material; I smelled blood my blood; flying back to reality and I know what is happening, the animal grunting and horrible rhythm; pain, it’s between my legs; no one had ever been there before;" I heard Life take a savage breath, it was nice to know someone cared, even if it was just for show. I wiped the dampness from my face again.

"They raped me, I did not count or really anything." I tried to laugh it off, "they beat me, pulled my hair, god, one stood one foot on my head so I couldn’t move and urinated on my face as that other one finished, they called me whore, and cum bucket, and worse; every part of my body was used and abused; I lost, my hands blindly flail, I try to kick. I was savaged by animals I use the term loosely. They ransacked my car as they took turns, seeing my viola in the trunk and to punish me for fighting they crushed my left hand, they kicked me, beat my head into the pavement repeatedly. When they had finished with me and my car, the cruelest one of them, pulled the scarf wrapped around my neck and strangled me, they murdered me, and I do have to say part of me did die. As they did they laughed, god, they laughed, horrible laughs, they creep into my conscious when anything goes awry. I lost consciousness, I guess they assumed I died, I woke, I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke in a pool of blood and …err other, I got in my car and drove to the security station on the bottom level… yeah." I shook. He rubbed my hand; I pulled away quickly, I could have spit on him, but it was not him the anger belonged to. "What is madness but nobility of soul, at odds with circumstance?"

"My god, I was expecting bad, but my… my heart, it is broken” ready to face the loss of him, I turned, I watched his face as the light died in the low, dark, rain swollen clouds; a delicate falling rain drank in the dusk; it felt like it swallowed my misery whole and for that I was grateful; shrouded in silence, the branches of the trees above wrapped me in their stoic peace. Shadows fell across us the boundaries lost their edges, as the borders were erased, once again the wonder if I had ever really existed. His presence was always so elegantly reassuring, and still I had to remind myself it was not him I was so mad at.

"Yeah, so, how was that for a hard luck story? The first time I have told anyone since I left the police station. Not exactly Disney Channel friendly, but I am waiting to hear back from lifetime." I laughed; the sound was hollow. "Peachy side, I didn't end up knocked up or diseased; so, maybe the universe heard that plea." I sniffed, my frustration returning. He trailed his hand lightly down my damp cheek. I flinched away, shy, stupid, embarrassed, "pretty pathetic, huh?"

He shook his head. "Shh, stop that please, you don’t have to mock yourself in that Cyrano de Bergerac style you always use; you are not beating me to a punch line, I was never going for one” he ran his hands over his face, “did you not hear your story? My heart is broken." I tried to look away; his gentle hands coaxed my gaze back. "I heard a story of survival, those monsters tried to end you; here you are, fight intact, undaunted, truly indomitable, the rest just damaged facia."

I looked in his eyes, "Fate has been taunting, mocking me, whispering that I liked the assault,” I stopped, hesitating, “that has me doubting everything."

His face skeptical, eyebrow raised, "And you believe those taunts?" He shook his regal head.

Temper sparked, "kind of,” I stopped, feeling stupid, I bristled, “I do, okay. So what?"

"Why?" He cajoled. "Really, tell me why; the whole truth answer." He sat back like Cesar at the gladiator games, "hold nothing back, I can take it."

Apparently, he was satisfied that I was soundly kicking my own ass. "I wrote out, an imaginary tryst, you and I, we were on a boat, it was just delicious, an escape, there was a touch of rough to it... some of the details were... similar to... that." my voice stopped working. "I liked it a lot, but then I got overwhelmed, confused; how can I like that, without liking the other. The reality of that implication," I sniffed, fluttering my hands; that horrible weird guilt weighing my soul, I knew it was just my own psyche, but it was horrendously irresistible; I stopped I gave up; "shit, now you know; you know… everything why I am so deplorable... grotesque... disgusting." I rolled my eyes closed, I concentrated on my breathing, minutes clicked by finally I opened them, expecting that he had blew away on the breeze.

I met his gaze, I saw no pity, no disgust; I saw him, just Life. Confused, I searched further, still none.

"You are not. You know better than most that feelings can be deception; sex, isn't just soft, isn't just rough, it is never one flavour; it is the connection, the intention." He ran his hands through my hair. Pressing it back behind my ear the way I like it. "Honey, there is no equation between your rape and having a touch of rough in a fantasy. It does not mean you liked being helpless, beaten, or broken, the intention there was viciousness; there was no connection there, no trust" he sighed.

I gave a derisive chuckle, "right."

He dropped my hand, pulling away, gaining my full attention. "You apparently have made up your mind not just for you but also what I would think; you really must be magic; I think you would be surprised by what I think.”

I let a derisive chuckle out, “Sure because you are some kind of paragon.”

“I wouldn’t say paragon, but I heard every word you said. It made me so mad that you would think that way about you.” I rolled my eyes. He growled, and good god something in me was listening, something found the sound so delicious that it made me tingle; I scanned his eyes, there was still softness there. “Honey, look, I heard a story of an invasion, a horrible, massive invasion. I don't care if you were splayed naked on a table saying, 'come and get it big boy, give it to me hard,'” I let a snerk of laughter out at the idea. “if it was not the specific person you were talking to; that was an invasion. You cannot discount a rougher, needy kind of love making; accepting carnal love rougher more animal in its display requires trust in the intention of the other party, it is not simply the actions; Accepting love rougher, that act of trust is never more shameful or dirtier; it is a communication telling the other party, I trust you to be just this much, but no more; the instant you voice a dislike and it continues it becomes the other; it’s all up to you, whatever is pleasing to you, only you. There is no right, there is no wrong, no disgusting or dirty; sex is all about the feeling, expressing.” I understood what he was trying to say, but I really didn’t want to hear it, I knew he was trying to placate me, I tried to ignore him; “Don't be like a velvet glove cast in iron, dealing only in absolutes." I had to look away, “love is love, is love, is love, and it all matters” the storm gaining strength, he released the top and pulled it up; kissing the top of my head as he passed. "Sweeting, the space between absolutes..." he sighed, "remember, you said that is where you had chosen to live, you were right, it is the place where life happens." He ran his hands through his hair; his frustration evident, then a light hit his eyes; "I would really like to read this fantasy, curiosity leads me to wonder," he chuckled, "I just wonder if it would match up to any of mine." I shot him a skeptical look. “oh, honey; I have had so many fantasies since the first time you appeared.”

I had no words to say, I just sat watching him, waiting for the change.

He sat, looking at me, the storm began to rage, much like the maelstrom that had been inside me for so long; I pulled the piece up on my phone handing it to him. We were more than damp, I noticed I had been shivering; for how long, no one knows. I sat watching the storm split the sky; I started the car, flipping a bitch, starting back in the opposite direction; he was deeply ensconced in my words, he reached over with out looking up, turning on the heat, directing the vents at me.

I shot him a look, just a glance; but what I saw. God, the power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that I had never believed in its power; no one now dares to say that two beings have fallen in love because they looked at each other. Yet, an unguarded look can tell you so much, love, despise, languor and fear; tenderly in his exquisite look, I saw the most gorgeous thing, understanding; an acceptance. I was astonished, I was bewildered, dizzy, in a daze; I still did not understand, I began wondering what universe he was from... My stomach panged, rumbling as loud as the storm, I ignored it.

"Hey, can you pull in up there, you need something to eat." There was a neon sign in the distance, that advertised barbeque, I was surprise he could even see if as he didn’t look up from my words. I pulled in, reading the sign that promised barbecue and drinks, after all it was Texas, a bourbon sounded just right. I pulled in and parked; I was a numbed, near depressed but electrified, dumbfounded, impressed and slightly aroused; all the roiling emotions had my jaw clenched, I was disassociated, separated, on autopilot. My feet moving me through the rain, but I was a cloud of confused emotion; a stranger in a strange land; emotion was not my wheelhouse. Wandering idly toward the door; passing the columns, he gripped my shoulders almost punishingly. He spun me to face him, his face dark and serious, I began shivering, he pressed me to the wall. His face serious, but the passion burned; again, that growl, it hit the bottom of my stomach, warming, making my legs shake; he kissed me, suddenly, deeply, no warmup, no cuddling into my lips just immediately lips and tongue. Tucking his knee between my legs pressing hard, soft mewling left my throat caught in his mouth. He pinned my arms to my sides I tried to touch him, but he wouldn’t yield, he wanted to kiss me, his way; and yes, I liked it, he ran his tongue along the roof of my mouth, I moaned softly into his mouth, rocking gingerly against his knee; the visceral feeling. He started to deepen the kiss even more, his knee caressing, moving with intention. A quiet shudder rocked me. He sucked in a deep controlling breath, resting his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes; I shook like a leaf as we parted. Shaking I clung to his shoulders.

"Now, kitten, did you feel my intention, to bring you pleasure?" I nodded, "was there pleasure?" I bit my lip, a small smile creeped, I nodded. "You know, the fact that you know the horrible purity of absolute, pure despair; doesn’t mean that is all there is in this universe." He kissed me again, faintly. He passed his fingertips over my skin, almost without touching an experience that neither of us had expected or experienced before, the miracle of feeling myself in another body, "Now, did you feel that?"

"Yes," I whispered, I was shadow pinned against a sweating wall; needing more, my soul pleading for more, but I was frozen; "Oh there was a moment there; oh me, oh my; as you began a whisper of that kiss; clearer than any whispered words; god there was something there that makes it all worthwhile; that was the edge, hmm, the edge is what I have; truth of this fiction, it's the edge of flavour that makes the difference.” I giggled, “there was a time when I would speak words that made sense." I giggled.

"Yes. But what truth is there in sense?" He laced my fingers with his and pulled me after him; we walked in me confused actually wanting to go back to being pinned to that wall, we walked in. The waitress took us to a booth; I slid in first, I gasped in surprise as he slid in next to me on the same bench. He ordered me a bourbon and an order of fries; I sat there blinking, he then turns me to face him, he leans in close whispering deep and low; his breath warm on my neck, "When we are young we felt we are invincible; as we age we find ourselves, second guessing, always thinking twice." As he spoke, he planted little kisses on my neck; “I am done with that, I thought I was done paying my dues, same for you; now, I find that I have something I do not want to lose. The day you came into my life I changed again, fear still there, but also a cacophony of joy, both at odds, now every day now is just a grateful roll of the dice." His hands skimmed over my arms as they draped around his neck, freely delicious. "I look at that, it is working; you are starting to hear me; I like you, feel powerless in the lonesome times, thinking to myself 'dear god what have I done?' But with you here..." biting the edge of my ear, "you can run baby, you can try to hide, but whatever comes it will find you. For us, there is now; yesterday is history, an hour from now, no one knows for sure; but baby right now it's just you and me and that kiss, it said a lot." He turned me to face him.

Our drinks and fries came and I took a long drought, I laughed cuddling close, I felt young, I felt alive, and I really had never felt that way, “Are we mad?" he looked wounded, "but the good madness, the change the world madness."

"I want to just hold you tight; right now, we can make this moment last; don't think about anything other than helping you forget about the past, for just a moment if needs be." His kissed me slow, long deep caresses with his tongue; I tried to match him, I was awkward at first, but he led me in a natural rhythmic motion.

I missed feeling him, tasting him, gods, it was like breathing. I kissed him with everything I had. "You know, your fantasy, it was gorgeous." He kissed me again, his hands cupping my cheeks, tilting my face for a new angle. He broke from my mouth kissing down my neck. "I have sailed a 20-foot catch; I have had some very similar thoughts, but I loved that very forward confident you that you wrote."

I fumbled with my hands trying to make him feel some of what I was. "Have you really imagined us together as well?" My fingers sliding through his hair. He nodded, “I kind of assumed you were so out of my league."

He laughed, the sound rippled along my nerves; "oh, kitten, you have no idea who you actually are. Yes, I have, so many things I have fanaticized about."

I pulled away to see his eyes, they held no lie; "Even now?... after?"

He looked shocked, "Especially now." He said with conviction.

"Tell me one," I was breathless.

He held my had looking into my face, "Happily, but I would rather show you. I long to grab your hand and run to the motor inn across the parking lot, get a room." I looked out the window over his shoulder gnawing on my kiss swollen bottom lip.

"Mmm, story first," I stood firm.

"OK then, well, I suppose I could tell you about the one where you are the aggressor; holding me down using me as you will." He shook his head, "no, the one where I am the aggressor, holding you down? Kissing you slowly, teasing your nerves, dipping my fingers into you, feeling you shiver; nah, you don't look keen on that, eating chocolate ice cream off of your skin;” I really shivered, “maybe another time; I suppose, I could tell you about how I dreamt of kissing you, teasing you, then bend you over this table licking all the way up the back of you thigh and... no, no, not that one. Kitten, come here." He pulled my leg up so he could slide closer, fitting just between. "You have to use your imagination; I dream of laying you down, kissing you so hard, it takes your breath away; I want to make out with you like a teenager out passed curfew." He caressed my trembling bottom lip with his thumb. "I would get lost in your kisses; intoxicating, enticing, articulate, telling me exactly what you want, how you want it; using only the tip of your tongue you draft a treatise." He toyed with my hair idly, my eyelids began to sag half-mast; passion building in my body, "Wowzah, that scorching look in your eyes, so intent, you are so Wildely beautiful; why, oh why do you squash that want, fighting it like a foe, a weakness; please, just... let it free."

His hand began caressing my neck, I could not have stopped myself from rolling my head, so my neck was wide open for his lips. His tongue. "I love kissing your neck, licking, taking little bites, right here." His fingers wisping passed the place where neck meets shoulder, my bones melted; he smiled mischievously, shot me a naughty look wiggling get his brows. He slid his fingers along my neckline, his touch whisper soft; his voice low, rumbling, deep, "deliberately I descend along your succulent curves;" my body raising to meet his fingers, straining for attention. "I watch you arch your back, just like that; I can't take my time learning; your heaving breasts wanton for attention, nipples like diamonds," oh and they are, his two fingers caress along the crevice between my breasts. My breathing hitched, coming in soft pants, his eyes gorgeous reverent. "I reveal the state in which I see your nerves are in; rampaging, greedy, alive for just a whisper of a touch; oh, but I want more" he sunk in closer, enjoying the slight shake of my shoulders. His hot mouth kisses just behind my ear, his tongue licking along my skin; his lips playing with the cords in my neck as I let out a sighing moan, just a solitary note; his fingers toying with the area of my soft sweater, just over my the area of my nipple. "Your belly covered with barely visible downy hairs, soft, soft, so soft;" he slipped his fingers of his other hand up under the hem of my sweater, just above my waistband; his first hand dropping to my thigh, dipping between rubbing with soft curious fingers; the nail of his wide thumb, scraping along the seam between; "they are standing up because of the goose bumps I just made." His fingers velvet soft over my skin, I try clamped my thighs together he keeps that from happening. "Pushing passed the band of your jeans, I reach for what I crave the most." His second hand skimming a rougher scratching fingernail along the seam; his other fingers just trace along the skin along the edge of the bottom of my bra, his lips kissed along my neckline. "I would make you moan," I squirmed, "I would form a symphony of your empassioned calls, all the delicious sounds of satisfaction; I will be ruthless in my intent, pleasure my only goal; releasing you from the past, my hope. I know you will want to run, to escape, but at the same time you will be wanting more;" he pulled back, "more; look at you, breathtaking, deliciously titillated. Your cheeks flushed, you lips slightly parted; eyes glossy, erotic, steamy, fervid, seductive, coaxing, shameless; saying every want your lips refuse." Pulling at the hem of my sweater, "I want to slip my hand under your panties, sliding my fingers across your damp skin. God, I have wanted that for so long" His fingers ghost over my skin, reaching the edge of my satin bra; his lips crashed into mine, his kiss demanding, delicious, scalding; his hand enveloping my breast; his thumb rubbing delicately, I react honestly. I grabbed his wrist of his hand that was resting on my thigh, pulling his fingers to my mouth, sucking. The clench in my belly responding to his hand slipping under my bra. I pull away, gasping; I stand, dropping a ten on the table.

"Shit, I am sorry," his breath laboured, his face recalcitrant, "I pushed too far, too fast; I am sorry; so, where are we off to?" He looked disappointed, sad.

"Well, I decided, you are right," viciously, I let that hang in the air; “you should just show me. Our direction, over there," I pointed out the window to the inn.

He looked like a child at Christmas, he grabbed my arm tossing me over his shoulder, I giggle and squeal, he moved quickly to the door. We were out and across the parking lot swiftly, he was running; the rain drenching us; he dropped me to my feet under the awning. "I'll be right back."

I watched him fill out the forms, pay the woman, and he bounded back. "We will make, new experiences, giving you back all the power. Let’s roll." Pulling me over his shoulder again; I squealed, I laughed; he slapped my rump, I moaned.

And outside it was October Country . . . that country where it is late in the year and everyone is tired and waiting for that one good thing to break; country where the amber hills covered in fog, rivers are mist and ice; where noon shortly proceeds sundown, twilights linger, and mid-night’s stay; geese and dusks on their parade to the south; dilled carrots and jams are lined into cellars, sweaters, coats, jackets, are cycled to the front of closets, boots and gloves to the entry way, coffee and tea served hot and steamy with fresh cookies and it seems for a season everything faces away from the sun. October people, think October thoughts and wish that the Christmas stuff would remain hidden for another season, and passing nights, cool, bundled in warm socks and a large sweater walking or listening to the light rain on the tin roof hoping the winter doesn’t kill hope

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femchef · 5 years

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Suffer Bitch Ficlist

What This List Is: A collection of fics that I’ve read that absolutely fuck me up emotionally, and that I appreciated/loved/needed/have impacted me enough that I’ve saved them for re-reading. If these were paperbacks, the pages would have started falling out long before now.

That said, everything on this list has an emotional resolution (even the few incomplete ones I’ve chosen to include). Nothing on this list is the kind of emotional devastation that leaves the reader feeling empty and used* because honestly I need resolution, and I hate the type of #realism that makes me go “Well what was the fucking point, then”. This list is not comprehensive; if you’re in these fandoms, you’ve likely brushed up against them before. The majority of these authors are well-known, and some of these fics have been around longer than I’d like to be reminded.

So - what qualifies a fic for this list, anyway?

Tears and snotty sobbing. Everything on this list has made me cry and also given me emotional chills to some degree in order to make the cut.**

Before You Read: Take any warnings I list below seriously. If it’s something that will fuck you up in a bad way, then don’t read it. Don’t open the link. We all have things that are no-go’s. Full disclosure? I can’t read anything with graphic depictions of sexual assault, though mentions, allusions to, or mild/non-graphic depictions (ex. fade to black scenarios, fuzzy memory recall, etc.) don’t bother me. I take those tags and author’s notes seriously when I’m choosing what to read. Similarly, I’m pretty blasé about a lot of gore or body horror - except, specifically, when someone is rolling around in a pit of used needles (thanks for that, Saw movies). Guess what I avoid reading? In short: be a responsible reader. Don’t be self-destructive and proceed with however much caution you require.

*a life of smoke and silvered glass is an outlier and should not be counted.

**As a baseline, please keep in mind that the first time I read JRRT’s The Two Towers, I threw my book across the room when I got to the end. Also, the scene in Whale Rider where Paikea is on stage is the one time I started gross-sobbing in a movie theatre. Make of that what you will.

On to the list!

Suffer Bitch Ficlist:

(Presented to you in order of least impactful to most)

Invitation/Complication

It’s Green

Skin Deep

a life of smoke and silvered glass

Practicing Liars

Family Night

A Wicked Game

A Piercing Comfort

Loud and Clear

Humans and Ghosts

Digging for the Bones

Chivalry

In Care Of

A Year Like None Other

Stay

Under Wing

Distorting Equivalency

I’m Not Broken (I Can’t Be)

[The following are in no particular order because I couldn’t decide]

19. Sacrifices Arc

20. Phantom of Truth/Shadow of a Doubt

21. Like One Sundered Star

1. Invitation/Complication Series [Homestuck]

By saffronHeliotrope

You don’t need reminding that everyone is pairing off while you have village-bicycled your way through this group of morons as if you’d never run out of time.

It occurs to you that maybe you need new friends.

Word Count: 8,033

Status: Complete

This series contains two works, one taking place immediately after the other. Have fun angsting with Dave because he can’t seem to wrap his mind around this whole ot3 thing with John and Rose (on their wedding night, ofc). Consenting (if slightly dumb) adults and polyamory all around.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/132165

2. It’s Green [Harry Potter]

By Doodled93

Harry grows up working on his Aunt’s Garden and develops a love for it, meeting Samuel and eventually Max, who gives him a Mark of his own. This Mark is changing him, making him more different than he already was, and he loves it.

Word Count: 88,549

Status: WiP

This is marvelous kidfic - lots of good fluff. Except. You know - that one OC death that was so heart wrenching that you start bawling. The concept of magical tattoos in this fic is really nice, and Max - a prickly, rough and gruff tattoo artist is the best kind of unintentional parental mentor. The author hasn’t updated in some time, but they’ve also made a note that they’ll come back eventually when they’re ready to update to completion.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411709/chapters/683216

3. Skin Deep [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Batsutousai

Trisha and Van’s first child, Edith, was born a beautiful, healthy girl. The only problem? Ed knew he was a boy.

Word Count: 17,083

Status: Complete

As you may have guessed from the description, this is a mostly canon AU featuring a trans Edward Elric. I love it, I appreciate how it was written, especially that it’s not a romantic plot - and not only was I crying after the first read, but rereads still give me the sniffles.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197400/chapters/18779738

4. a life of smoke and silvered glass [Harry Potter]

By dirgewithoutmusic

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, smiling at them in that way of his, like he knew something you didn’t and he was proud of you for it. “Friends,” he began.

The door thudded open and the Marauders burst in, late and pink-cheeked with cold. The headmaster smiled at them, too, and Sirius gave a cheery little salute back.

Severus sunk lower in his chair, staring witheringly over his butterbeer. “You told Potter about it, too?”

“He might as well put all that energy to good use,” said Lily. “And to be accurate, I told Remus.”

“But Potter, really?” said Severus.

“He and Black cooked up a jinx that gives you a boil every time you say a slur to a Muggleborn,” said Lily. “It was either invite them to Alice’s war club or bake them cookies, and I know where my skills lie.”

Severus sniffed. “Don’t come crying to me if he tugs your pigtails.”

“Come crying to me if he pulls yours, and I’ll deck him.” said Lily.

(Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily.)

Word Count: 22,794

Status: Complete

This is the Severus Snape that canon wanted. The greatest tragedy that never has to explicitly be spelled out (and the reason this fic is so heartbreaking and infuriating) is that the end results are the same.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457669

5. Practicing Liars [Harry Potter]

By Lomonaaeren

AU of HBP. Harry found out that he was Snape’s son two years ago, and he’s carefully concealed it. But now Snape is his Defense teacher, and Draco Malfoy is up to something, and Dumbledore is dying, and the final battle is coming up, and everything is getting very, very complicated.

Word Count: 206,306

Status: Complete

Oh boy, bring on the angst. A Severitus fic with a lot of bitter, petty feelings. Half Blood Prince is such a popular point in HP canon to veer off into AU territory (for good reason), and just - the timing, the missed opportunities, the growth. Lots of feelings. Also drarry.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990947/chapters/1955931

6. Family Night [Harry Potter]

By Celebony

As Hogwarts starts a quarterly Family Night, Harry is determined to take part. Facing the heartache of looking in all the wrong places, he’ll have to discover the true meaning of family, and that sometimes it comes from where you least expect it.

Word Count: 33,000

Status: Complete

Eventual Severitus fic. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional abuse, anxiety, self-destructive behavior, angst, grief, and (eventually) healing and recovery - this fic has it all. To me, I think this is the author’s best work, but obviously I have a preference. Fans of Remus tread carefully, this story may not be for you.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/2682144/1/Family-Night

7. A Wicked Game Series [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Tierfal

Roy has lucked into the all-expenses-paid vacation of his dreams - all he has to do is convince a bunch of happy couples that he’s head-over-heels in love with Ed Elric. What could possibly go wrong?

[Modern!AU].

Word Count: 64,884

Status: Story is Complete, but Series is still open for possible future oneshots/additions

Currently three completed works in the series. Roy and Ed as struggling grad students who share lab space stuck in a cabin full of obnoxious couples. This story resonates so well for me, because it was the first time I read something where a character actively struggles with depression where I really felt like someone GOT IT. So, be warned - suicide mentions, depression, angst, and a lot of puns. Safe Roy/Ed, though if that’s not your jam, better take a miss.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/372113

8. A Piercing Comfort [Harry Potter]

By talithan

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy’s patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact - he’s no longer sure he wants to.

Word Count: 44,566

Status: Complete

This fic has art by onthecount! It’s lovely. Anyway - Oh my god. When I talk about things resonating on some, soul-deep level. The way depression, and trauma, and PTSD is handled is... Well. I don’t go back to this often, but it’s because (for me) reading this fic is cleansing. Draco and Luna as therapists running a burgeoning wizarding practice is pretty great. If you couldn’t guess by reading the summary, this is an eventual drarry fic - and I’ll be upfront, if the idea of dating your former therapists squicks you out, don’t read. I like how it’s written out, it doesn’t feel inappropriate, or like any sort of power imbalance to me, but I can see where that wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea either.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857495

9. Loud and Clear Series [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Tierfal

The thing with Roy is founded on coffee snobbery and stupid text messages and seriously awesome makeout sessions in the car. Oh, and the love of a lifetime, or whatever.

Word Count: 280,924

Status: WiP

Currently there are six completed works, and one in-progress (with at least one more slated by the author). Also known as ‘The modern!AU Roy/Ed fluffball fic (of doom)’, there is emotional baggage/angst throughout that hints at darker things but nothing too dreadful until the fourth entry in the series, “Another One of Those Heartbreak Songs”. Anxiety, depression, war crimes, rape and consent (and, fyi, one of the best descriptions of what exactly enthusiastic consent IS, is in the current entry of the series, “The Boiling Point”) are all being dealt and felt in this story. Safe Roy/Ed fic that starts with a coffeehouse!AU style meetcute and follows the deepening relationship between Roy (established lawyer who works with veterans) and Ed (making the transition from struggling grad student to frazzled professor), and has a delightful dose of Al/Win tossed in. One of the most relatable things about this series is how all the terrible things about your worst relationships don’t really hit you until you’re smack in the middle of the best relationship you’ve ever had, and it’s ROUGH. Consider this your explicit warning: if mentions of rape/sexual abuse, or abusive ex’s set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/167693

10. Humans and Ghosts [Danny Phantom]

By RedHeadsRock1010

If there was one thing Danny Fenton perfected since receiving his powers, it was how to pretend.

Word Count: 26,751

Status: Complete

ANGST. Angst and neglectful parents. Angst and neglectful parents and two siblings doing the best they can. Jazz is a real MVP in this story. Also blood and gore. And torture. Oh my god. Still makes me cry. Consider this your explicit warning: if mentions of torture, or neglectful/abusive parenting set you off, don’t read. While it’s not a religious fic, the impact of the parenting codes like some of the horror stories you might have heard about being in the closet and growing up with religious parents. You have been warned.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315771/chapters/27999459

11. Digging for the Bones [Harry Potter]

By Paganaidd

Rather than allowing Harry to stay at Diagon Alley after he blew up Aunt Marge, the ministry sends Harry back to the Dursley’s. Harry returns to school after a terrible summer, to find that he’s not the only one with this kind of secret. A student has been killed by his family. New screening measures are put into place by the Ministry: Every student must be given a medical exam and interview to look for child abuse. With Dumbledore facing an inquiry, Snape is entrusted with the task of making sure EVERYONE receives one.

Word Count: 203,178

Status: Complete

As the author warns before the fic, there is a character death in the first chapter. The story is an AU of Prisoner of Azkaban. Suicide, attempted suicide, and suicidal ideation are a big part of the story. Child abuse, death by child abuse (and the aftermath), ptsd, and the appalling effects of dementors on a castle full of kids are pretty central to the plot. Eventual Severitus. Also accidental necromancy. This is a monumental hurt/comfort fic and there are a LOT of feelings. And angst. Consider this your warning: if explicit attempted suicide, or suicidal thoughts set you off, don’t read. If mentions of physical abuse/child abuse set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598019/chapters/1078847

12. Chivalry Series [Harry Potter]

When Harry appears at the Welcoming Feast wearing a glamor only Snape notices. Snape decides to find out what the glamor is hiding.

You, the guiltless, will pay for your father’s sins,

Roman, until you repair the decaying

Temples and shrines of the gods, and their

Images, filthy with blackening smoke.

When you act as servant of the gods, you rule:

From them all beginning, leave them the ending.

Horace, Odes III-6

Word Count: 123,467

Status: Series is marked as Ongoing, though individual stories are Complete

Welp. Angst, some explicit child abuse (specifically physically violent Vernon Dursley), grief and mourning, ptsd, accidental potions class disasters that lead to more angst, sickfic, hurt/comfort, blood, gore and violence, child neglect, and eventual found-family by way of Severitus and a developing sibling relationship between Harry and Luna. There is a lot to unpack here. The interactions between Harry, Luna and Severus are especially endearing and heartbreaking. This is your explicit warning: if explicit child abuse /physical abuse set you off, or if accidentally forced (yes, I know how that sounds) flashbacks set you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/12306

13. In Care Of

By Fangs_Fawn

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it... and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is.

Word Count: 45,319

Status: Complete

I’m gonna be upfront with you. Vernon and Dudley Dursley are very sadistic in this story. Tread with caution. That said, along with the angst this is a very solid hurt/comfort fic that is also a reciprocal hurt/comfort fic (in that, first Snape is helped, and then Harry). It’s a nice emotional exchange. Violence - explicit child abuse and torture, grief, and a very petulant animagus. This is your explicit warning: if physical torture/violence sets you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023625/chapters/2036909

14. Like None Other Series [Harry Potter]

By aspeninthesunlight

A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. Whatever the Dursley’s have to say, it can’t be anything good; so Harry’s determined to ignore it. But then, his evil schoolmate rival spots the letter and his slimy excuse for a teacher intercepts it and forces him to read it. And that sends Harry down a path he’d never have walked on his own.

It will be a year of big changes, a year of great pain, and a year of confronting worst fears. It will be a year of surprising discoveries, of finding true strength, of finding out that first impressions of a person’s true colors do not always ring true. It will be a year of paradigm shifts.

And from the most unexpected sources, Harry will have a chance to have that which he has never known: a home... and a family.

A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after book 5.

Word Count: 1,465,418

Status: WiP

Currently there are two completed works in this series, and one ongoing. This is a ROLLERCOASTER, omg. Terminal illness, child abuse, explicit, agonizing torture, grief and mourning, bad coping mechanisms, self-harm, self-destructive behavior - hurt/comfort out the wazoo. Eventual Severitus, this is a good, substantial found-family fic with a developing sibling relationship between Harry and Draco. I really appreciate that Severus, Harry and Draco continue to step on each other’s toes as the story moves along. They get as much wrong as they get right, and the familial development is natural. Harry does struggle a bit with the newer experience of a paternal Severus weighted by the previous years of his antagonism and petty behavior. Severus struggles with balance, Draco struggles with extremes - behavior, feelings, intrusive thoughts - it’s a very well-rounded story. This is your explicit warning: The torture is incredibly graphic, and there are needles involved. If that sets you off, don’t read.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/41198

15. Stay [Danny Phantom]

By jaeger_soul

Dash Baxter is finally a senior and this year isn’t supposed to be hard. With nothing waiting on him after graduation, he might as well sleep through his classes. He’s already got a job after high school’s over, what’s the point of reaching for anything more? He’s fine with what he has. But when ‘more’ comes in the form of a black-haired boy with similar problems to his own, can Dash really not try for it?

Word Count: 817,287

Status: WiP

This is technically a series, since the author has written one companion piece from another character’s perspective for chapter 27 of the story. Oh my god. Dash is a sweet, sweet cinnamon roll who’s just trying to muddle his way through, and terrible things happen to him. This is not Dash the bully from the canon series. The endgame ship is Dash/Danny, and it is very slow-burn. Lots of hurt/comfort in this fic, and the author’s OC’s are incredibly fleshed out and wonderfully developed. Anxiety and panic attacks are pretty heavy in this story. Small town-typical homophobic slurs, make an appearance. Teenagers having sex with other teenagers is a thing. Mentions of abortion and teen pregnancy and unwanted pregnancy all happen later on. Mentions of suicidal thoughts and attempted suicide are plot points. Abusive and abused ex partners. Child abuse - emotional, mental and physical - is the heavy hitter in this story. It is explicit and painful and heartbreaking. Consider this your warning. ABUSE. Explicit, agonizing depictions of trauma, and being used as a bargaining chip between two different but equally terrible parents - if any of that sets you off, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.

Read here:https://archiveofourown.org/series/646532

16. Under Wing [Harry Potter/Katekyou Hitman Reborn Crossover]

By Reighost

Prophesies were tricky things and lies are even trickier. Sirius’s death becomes a catalyst and Dumbledore’s lies crumple like a house of cards. Harry is left with a burning question... Who is he really? Crossover with Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

Word Count: 145,771

Status: WiP

This story goes hard on the angst right out of the gate. And I do mean hard. Oh my god. A literal mindfuck that will leave you gasping. Psychological manipulation and torture, mind rape, body horror, and non-sexual indecent treatment of a corpse to start with. However, there is a lot of good content in this hurt/comfort fic. The author has not only brought HP and KHR together but has blended elements and characters from Spirited Away, Cardcaptor Sakura and xxxHolic together in such a way that despite all the horror, there’s actually a lot of redeeming charm. You will never find a better interpretation of the Hibari family than the Hibari’s that Reighost writes about in her universes, and this story contains a flashback to the Hibari parents meetcute and it is adorable and hilarious. While this is a wip, it’s at a very good stopping point that’s more or less the end of a story arc - so don’t let the thoughts of a slow wip put you off. This is your warning: Mind-control and mind-control recovery, and gore, all quite explicit. If that sets you off, DO NOT READ. There’s a reason this story is so far down the list.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123387/chapters/2264363

17. Distorting Equivalency [Fullmetal Alchemist]

By Ranowa Hikura

All Ed knows is that he’s been kidnapped by a madman.

Word Count: 173,000

Status: Complete

Go hard or go home. This is 27 chapters of kidnapping, explicit torture, and unethical alchemical experimentation with chimeras. All those feelings you have about Nina? Dial it up to eleven (to point out, Tucker and Nina are not featured characters in this story - unfortunately that disaster has already happened). A hurt/comfort fic with a very good resolution. Also becomes eventual Paternal!Roy and Ed. This is your warning: If explicit, repeated torture and body horror set you off, AVOID THIS FIC.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12116762/1/Distorting-Equivalency#end

18. I’m Not Broken (I Can’t Be) [Homestuck]

By [orphan_account]

Guys don’t get raped.

Okay, so maybe they do, sometimes. But that’s only when they’re ganged up in an alley way and shoved against a wall and get some other guy’s dick in their ass without permission. It’s forceful and bloody and masculine. At least, that’s how the media sells it.

But this isn’t rape.

When a girl buys you drinks and takes you home and crawls on top of you - well, that’s every guy’s wet dream.

When she’s grinding down onto you and her hands are holding yours to her breasts and she’s whispering filthy, filthy things into your ear, that’s not rape.

That’s not rape no matter how many times you say no.

Word Count: 33,386

Status: Complete

This is your explicit warning: Rape. The scene is non-graphic (lead-up with fade-to-black scenario) and takes place in the first chapter. Trauma, self-harm, suicidal ideation, destructive behavior, mentions of homophobia. If the summary of this story isn’t enough of a warning, then here you go. DO NOT READ if this is what sets you off. Hurt/comfort and ANGSTANGSTANGST aside, the aspect that I appreciate most about this story is how it deals with trying to come to terms with a trauma you don’t know how to articulate (to yourself or others). I don’t generally do stories that rely on miscommunication, but in this case, it makes sense: it’s less about miscommunication for the sake of plot, and more the lack of ability to articulate effectively, which. Yeah. Dark, angsty hurt/comfort that eventually ends on a positive, hopeful note. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777171/chapters/1462358?view_adult=true

DUN DUN DUN - THE BIG THREE

Let’s call it a three-way tie, because there is SO MUCH PAIN in each of these stories, honestly I really can’t pick an order for them.

19. Sacrifices Arc [Harry Potter]

By Lightning on the Wave

Harry’s twin Connor is the Boy Who Lived, and Harry is devoted to protecting him by making himself look ordinary. But certain people won’t let Harry stay in the shadows...

Word Count: 3,081,000

Status: Complete

Wrong Boy Who Lived. Severitus, Slytherin!Harry. Drarry. If those are on your radar, this may be the story for you. Just beware literally everything else. Torture, mind-control and manipulation, child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, neglect, rape, cannibalism (is it cannibalism when it’s a werewolf eating a human child), trauma, destructive behavior, violent loss of limb, blood, gore, viscera, necromancy - these are just some of the explicit things that take place in the series. There are eight works in the Sacrifices Arc, and they mirror the canon Harry Potter series in that they start at mild and slightly odd and become darker and more horrifying. This is a very, very long series, and it hits a lot of milestones within the HP fandom. There are lovely moments of tenderness, the OC’s are magnificent and well-developed, and while heavy-handed from time to time, the author explores notions of morality and spends a lot of time on magical theory and world-building. If you haven’t read Sacrifices Arc and want more information, google it’s tvtropes page. I would recommend doing so just to determine whether or not the story is safe for you to read if you’re concerned about it, because there is a LOT going on. Otherwise, start with the first story in the series (“Saving Connor”) and proceed with caution. You will absolutely be wrung out before you finish.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/u/895946/

20. Phantom of Truth/Shadow of a Doubt [Danny Phantom]

By HaiJu

Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth... except, perhaps, herself.

Word Count: 366,000

Status: Complete

Do you want to get fucking wrecked? Because this series will do it. Holy shit. I still can’t believe I got through it. This is so well-written and so. Fucking. Painful. The first entry in the series, Phantom of Truth, absolutely GOES THERE. The second entry is... everything that comes after. I don’t feel like it spoils anything to tell you that Maddie is not the person who captures Danny Phantom, or that she does not know he’s her son. Make of that what you will. Also, the first story does have a good resolution and does not end on a cliffhanger, so if you need to take a break after, you should. Bonding happens, and I wouldn’t call it Stockholm Syndrome, since it’s between Maddie and Danny, but I also wouldn’t say it doesn’t overlap. This story is absolute fucking angst. Shadow of a Doubt explores not only the traumatic repercussions on Maddie and Danny and their relationship, but on their friends, family, acquaintances and even enemies. There are some very good OC’s that come into play later on. You know, between all the angst and pain. Tread carefully: If you think you’ll be set off by torture and abuse, DO NOT READ THIS FIC. I cannot stress that enough.

Read here: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/7476808/1/Phantom-of-Truth

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/9683169/1/Shadow-of-a-Doubt

[It’s worth mentioning that HaiJu has an ao3, but they haven’t finished crossposting Shadow of a Doubt to their account]

21. Like One Sundered Star Series [Homestuck]

By oriflamme

Who are these shining like one sundered star?

[Like kindled lights in untempestuous heaven,

Fair flower-like stars or the iron foam of fight.]

———

Teenage superheroes deal with hormones, mental illness, and extremely secretive guardians in a world of Horrorterrors, giant mutant lucii, mob violence, nightmares of a past life, warring anti-heroes, and asshole carapacians. Sburb AU divergence from Real Men Wear Tights.

Word Count: 1,712,155

Status: Complete

Welcome to the AU of an AU that did a double reach-around back into canon and became a reincarnation AU. It’s fucking excellent and also fucking traumatic. Body horror, blood and gore and viscera, torture, emotional manipulation, mind control, child abuse, emotional abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, attempted suicide/suicidal ideation, codependency, alcohol abuse, just to name a significant few. This is a huge pale-tango clusterfuck and it’s glorious. The world-building is insane. Richly developed OC’s, good use of languages, images that a slowly incorporated into a story of increasing breadth and complexity - and a fucking bombshell that will hit you really, really hard about midway through the story. So much pain. Again, this is another series with a tvtropes page that you should visit if you have any concerns before reading, because there is just that much going on. There are three works in this series, two are companions to the main body of work. Proceed with caution, because this will squeeze the life out of you.

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/56682

Welp.

#fic recs #violence tw #rape tw #abuse tw #literally think of a tw and insert here #proceed with caution

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