#beating a trauma survivor is always so fucking hard

[vole-mon-amour]

x

#neil newbon #this gives me a VERY heavy heart #astarion #bg3 #beating a trauma survivor is always so fucking hard #and i feel that bc you experienced that pain and abuse and decided to try and find a better version of yourself #you also understand how it is for other people and you try to act with care #maybe that's why he's trying to be so understanding and so forthcoming #i respect and appreciate him for that #even how he himself wants to hug astarion #I'm FEELING #*being a trauma survivor #ugh

[mofsblog]

(CW suicide) Does anyone else think TF like definitely tried to kill himself during the 10-year time period where Graves was in jail? No, like this has been an interpretation of mine for so long. It's just sooo. I feel like TF's absolute grief and guilt during that time period doesn't get talked about enough and like understandable because in the main lore it's only vaguely alluded to and implied and never really explored but like. If you think about it, you can not tell me this man did not cry himself to sleep for months if not years

Like it's fact that Graves got locked up (something TF probably blames himself for), which is already bad enough but then you take into account how TF has pre existing trauma surrounding abandonment because of his folk leaving him and I don't know about other people but I feel like a very common feeling when you're traumatised or hurt is being afraid you're going to put someone you care about through that so TF probably took it twice as hard because he felt like he "abandoned" Graves in prison. All of that guilt gets like 50% worse if you count the implication that TF has been in love with him for a long time and was self aware about it so now it's also guilt from "fuck I doomed the man I love because I couldn't save him"

AND THEN IT GETS EVEN WORSE WHEN YOU CONSIDER THAT, HE DID TRY. He did try to break him out. And that trying lead to at least 3 of their crewmates/friends getting killed. No like I can not state how absolutely devastating that period probably was for TF. The survivors guilt from Graves being imprisoned, the guilt from the fact he got their entire crew killed trying to save Graves, the fact that it's canon he never spoke to anyone about it and held it in for years

All of this concluding in this line that I've always found interesting

Like I could already go on about how his identity and name change seem to have happened right after the last of his crew died and how it's really likely he changed everything about himself to distance himself from everything that happened and how it was probably too painful being himself because of the guilt and grief

But what I find interesting is the mention of the river and how it's implied this name change happened after he visited and left the river. Now there's a high chance I'm looking too much into this and this is mainly my own headcanon and interpretation but how likely do you think it is he changed his whole identity because he failed a suicide attempt (in which he probably tried to drown himself) and using a different name and identity was the second closest thing he could do to stop being himself and existing as himself

No, like I'm sorry, but it's the fact he went to a river despite not knowing how to swim after thinking the man he was pining after was abandoned by him and TF put him through the exact pain he had to go through, not to mention the isolation and beatings TF just sentenced him to by "letting him get captured" AND THATS ON TOP OF THE ACTUAL AT LEAST THREE FRIENDS/CREWMATES HE ACTUALLY GOT KILLED IN AN EFFORT TO SAVE HIM. and then the fact he literally had zero outlet during all of this. I don't know, I just feel like it's a solid possibility. TF's repression of his emotions through his nonchalant and playful attitude tends to, in my opinion, make people overlook how badly the whole thing probably affected him and I feel like that's a bit of a shame because there's so much angst potential there

Anyways I'm normsl about the league of legends gambler guy

#SORRY IVE BEEN PLAGUED BY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS FOR A WEEK STRAIGHT. i jusy think hes neat and deserves happiness and the world #twisted fate #tobias felix #tfgraves #Malcolm graves #<- didnt focus too much on him but hes mentioned quite a lot and integral to this sooo. also hes getting his own post later #league of legends #lol #suicide mention #drowning mention #tf just strikes me as the kind of guy who seems chill and well adjusted and then one day without any warning you find out he killed himself #he needs therapy so bad #im glad he got his hubby back at least

[crownedrottenthorns]

Personal vent

Tw/Cw: tbmc, ramcoa/oea, tbmc, in-system abuse

Vent about living with the heavy abuse and trauma we fucking endured

I'm sick of the flashes. I'm sick of sitting here and just going through system stuff and getting a reminder. A fucking reminder, a flash of something I can't recall. None of us can. We aren't truly allowed to by the higher ups/controllers/council in our system. Getting too close has led to beatings and punishments.

We feel isolated. So very isolated. Not truly, but in our experiences. And we still fucking yearn to return to him, to have him find us, to go home. I hate it. Nothing aligns right and it's confusing. We have all of us more "normal" alters just...existing and then the programmed parts conflict with us. Craving abuse, craving him, craving the worst things, becoming convinced it's "our purpose" and "what we must do." It's not fun. It's fucking ugly and terrifying. Our body feeling certain things that are uncomfortable. Feeling sick and terrified. The most common things being triggers. We have so many phobias that aren't always easy to avoid as well.

Our safe person isn't here right now and we feel so fucking lost and fucked up. We didn't even go searching for anything, the flashes just fucking started. We fele so separate even from other abuse survivors cause it wasn't like this. It's fucking horrific. The isolation, the loneliness, this pain. It's so fucking awful. These flashes, the phobias, these feelings...They're the worst. It's hard to do anything. We just feel sick. So fucking sick and alone. And no one even knows. Nobody fucking knows the kind of shit that goes through our head. Even our safe person has no idea how truly fucking horrific it is to live with this. It's cold and isolating, it's painful and feels as if it is killing you little by little. Remembering the pain so fucking long forgotten and buried deep. We've always felt it, but it's more apparent now that we're aware. A constant fear of him coming to find us right alongside wanting him to come find us. Two opposites existing at once constantly. We are terrified and distressed and alone. And no one is able to deal with it. No one is able to understand. That shit makes our family's abuse seem so fucking tame. But we also hate how our abusive family opened up the way for this shit to happen to us. Knowing damn well promises of love convinced us otherwise. I hate being wishy washy and easily manipulated and controlled. I hate being reminded. I hate how easily triggered we are. I hate the hallucinations of his fucking face that are still blurry and unable to be remembered. I hate how small we feel when we miss him and crave him. I hate our phobias being difficult to avoid. I hate the world. I hate this bullshit. I hate feeling so god damn fucking alone and seeing everyone that just exists. Fine. Without this horrid mess of thorns crawling through them, rotting away their body, feeding the decay. And I hate knowing we were meant for something that only our abuser, our programmer fucking knew. But it's obvious enough, at least part of it. To be the perfect toy. And we fucking hate it.

No real fronting, too blurry

#blurry #system #programmed system #programmed did #ramcoa survivor #tbmc survivor #oea survivor #tbmc #hc did #ec did #hc did system #ec did system #tw programming #tw tbmc #tw ramcoa #tw oea #our fucked up and ugly reality #the flashes just don't fucking stop #polyfrag system #polyfragmented system

[echonvoid]

Disaster twins strike again! This show has fucking fantastic disability/nuerodivergency/queer representation and I adore it!

So, my headcanons after the movie:

Leo:

Suffers from chronic pain and fatigue; has weaker lungs and immune system; and has to use a cane to keep himself steady in case he has a dizzy spell. Uses a c-pap to make sure he breathes when he sleeps; and he has some emergency oxygen tubing that he puts on if he’s really having a hard time breathing.

Has nightmares, ptsd, and frequent panic attacks; all involving weightlessness, falling, or just the feeling of Krang beating the shit outta him.

Often uses compression clothes to help with sensory issues. The whole gang tend to wander around the lair in comfy clothes nowadays. Everyone needs the extra comfort.

Has a real nasty case of tinnitus and wears hearing aides to help with that. I just realize the don’t really have ears, just ear slits. So instead, he wears noise canceling headphones (him and Donnie have a habit of kidnapping each other’s headphones) that donnie has modified to act as hearing aids, filtering in the outside sound

Leo’s Gay as Fuck (I mean Da Vinci is so proud of this boy), and he’s a demi boy. He definitely has adhd and quite the handful of nuerodivergency disorders. Like he has some nasty dyslexia and tonal issues. AMAB pronouns: he/they

Donnie:

Makes a softer battle shell for around the house, but refuses to take it off unless they’re bathing, or slapping some ointment on it. It definitely bubbled and blistered after being attached to the Krang’s nuerotech (he was very proud of coming up with that name); his arms also had a similar nasty rash, but it was no where near as bad.

His eyes glow in the dark, eerie and blank, but quite powerful, they illuminate a good distance around him, but he himself can only see shadows.

His nerves are incredibly rebellious after being merged like that. Sometimes he can’t feel shit, others it’s a weird electrical tingle that passes through, and most often it’s his nerves all feeling like they’re catching on fire. He was used to sensory issues from his nuerodivergency, but this was a fucking whole other level.

He does a lot of data collection and processing over all the shit that they have left over from the Krang attack. It helps him process all the fucking horrors they went through.

Pronouns: He/They. Gender: agender. He’s an aromantic bisexual (or at least bi and somewhere on the aroace spectrum) AFAB

General:

ASL comes back in full force. When Donnie was little there were times he’d go nonverbal (hell, Raph still does go nonverbal when he gets to anxious (Savage Raph)), but he slowly grew outta it. Now, they all have nonverbal days and ASL has become a major part of their speaking. Most of them will sign while speaking outta habit, and not even realize it.

Turtle cuddle piles become the norm; they’ve turned the common area into a huge cushiony pillow fort of sorts. All the good blankets, textures, all of it, they pile in there. There’s also a closet that they transformed into a hideaway cove of sorts for anyone needing to be alone, so then they won’t be too far.

They take a pretty long break from any kind of hero work, at least 6 months. But after that, everyone was on a break. Hell, hypno and warren had brunch with the turtles once a month. They’ve reached a nice frenemy status, and honestly, the couple feels fucking horrible for what went down with the Krang.

Everyone goes to therapy!!! Especially CJ, Draxum, and Splinter; while everyone goes for help processing the attack, these three have trauma that haunts them from long before.

CJ has survivor’s guilt, c-ptsd, and a shitty relationship with food since it wasn’t always available, and the youngest and the fighters always had eating priority. He also fucking hates Draxum, cuz in his timeline Draxum gains a god/savior-complex; he decides that it would be better for the hidden city to be destroyed than for the Krang to have it. Donnie and Raph (while on CJ babysitting) found out, and went to stop him. But he beheaded donnie, in front of 4 year old CJ, then murder-suicided the entire city. Raph managed to get themselves out.

After hearing the devastating news that au him beheaded his own son and destroyed the very thing he swore to protect… and he wasn’t surprised… Draxum realized he wants to make his kids proud (especially Mikey, who poured so much love into him, even when he didn’t want it) So, he agrees to therapy. With a licensed therapist who wasn’t his child.

There he realizes he was raised in an insane bloodthirsty cult, and he was literally raised to be a child soldier. He spends a long time unlearning the cult mentality he grew up with. (And yes I am very much projecting my own feelings of learning that your parents religious ideology functioned more like a cult than a religion)

Splinter has to deal with his fucking trauma from Big Mama. Like, she abused the fuck outta him and he *still*, to this day, believes she can be fixed/redeemed. He has to unlearn a lot of shit, and his relationship with Draxum (the glorious nebulous divorcée vibes) is far healthier and it helps him better understand the way relationships are supposed to work. Oh, and he learns how to properly process grief and depression.

Anyway, I have lots of post movie feels, and quite a few 2012 crossover notes that I may or may not do something with (don’t worry, no 2012 hate; them characters just need therapy and a huge group huge/cuddle pile)

#rottmnt fanart #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt big mama #post rottmnt movie #rottmnt Casey jones jr #therapy is fucking important #disaster twins fanart #disabled rise!leo #disabled rise!donnie #gay rise!leo #bi rise!donnie #I’m too fucking tired to list all my queer/gender/disability headcanons #post rottmnt movie headcanons #save rottmnt #my disabled/nuerodivergent/queer heart adores this show so fucking much #Draxum deserves a more fleshed out redemption arc #especially cuz he was trying to commit genocide and never really seemed remorseful #he just grew to like the hamato family

[souryogurt64]

it’s funny that palahniuk is a little woman hating considering he knows so much about feminism. he brings up ariel levy (feminist author) in one of his books and has a very dark short story called speaking bitterness about radfems sexually assaulting a woman they believe to be trans. just the way it’s written it’s brutal and he def knows a lot about women’s issues it’s just not always written in the best way

Yeah in the Peteryan essay I wanted to quote from a lot of their biggest influences because they're pretty misogynistic. And there's this quote in Choke about how women secretly want to be oppressed by men and their entire identity depends on it. And the book is satirical and I didn't want to include it in bad faith if it was like making fun of this idea, so I was like looking into his viewpoints or whatever

And two of his newest books are like, one is apparently about how women get enslaved by men and then the men can't dress themselves or cook and the other one is about like a feminist that secretly loves romance novels and she gets raped in public in the opening scene and then this like billionaire kidnaps her for sex to sell his sex toys that like make women want to be tortured to death or something and it's like satirizing 50 Shades and Twilight and like dark romance novels or whatever. Anyway all the reviews were saying it was just terrible

I didn't read these so maybe it's like bad for me to point fingers at it but the second one had horrible reviews and then I looked up like what he's said and he was like justifying it by saying that like third wave feminism was bad and had gone too far and is just about women wanting to have their tits out and bringing up the schizophrenic woman who shot Andy Warhol as like an example of feminism going too far. And like first of all that woman had very, very serious mental issues so pick a better example and secondly that happened in 1968 which was over 20 years before third wave feminism and thirdly we have just lost Roe so clearly feminism has less teeth than it did 50 years ago. Grow up

And like I get there's harmful things about these books and there's definitely valid criticisms to be made but like first of all Twilight is like a very Mormon book and large portions of the US are deeply religious or were at least raised deeply religious. And I think a lot of people who are not raised with that kind of belief system just cannot compute it which is fair but part of why those books gripped the nation is because a large portion of women are raised with the belief system that dating and enjoying sex is the worst thing you can do and that it should hurt and be bad and decreases your value as a person to the point where it is very difficult for many women to come or enjoy penetration

And part of why books like Twilight got so popular and like gripped the nation is because there's elements of the story that reduce that sense of guilt by decreasing the girl's ability to like be chaste and leave and never talk to the guy again like they're "supposed to", and every romance novel across hundreds of years from like before Jane Eyre to Sold to One Direction fanfiction is like a widespread phenomenon that contains a lot of the exact same beats because of this

And like you can definitely still satirize those things or criticize them or argue that mass production and exposure to that content is harmful, and personally I think 50 Shades is written very weird and not hot and parts of Twilight like with Rosacoeleene or whatever the fuck her name is are extremely strange.

But Survivor feels so raw in it's depiction of that exact concept regarding being unable to enjoy sex due to religious trauma and how the narrator is obsessed with sex but struggles to be able to have sex because of the cult he was raised in it's just so weird to me that this book is such a hard pivot on that and doesn't seem to think about it or try to understand what it's satirizing at all and the big takeaway is supposed to be that like "regular women with jobs that identify as third wave feminists that want careers and read romance novels aren't REAL feminists and secretly want to be raped" like get a grip dude

I understand that there's another level with like religion and gay sex which is alluded to being what the straight romance is actually about in Survivor but I guess maybe he didn't bother to think about the romance books he was satirizing or like empathize with the idea that women can feel similar things

And also it just pisses me off because it never goes both ways, like with the exception of Pretty Tied Up by Guns N Roses almost every single classic rock song about bondage is about a dominatrix but nobody EVER would seriously make the claim that like ACDC or Van Halen or whatever are closet misandrists because that's just fucking ludicrous but even left-leaning people are so quick to act like being into mild spanking and choking with someone you trust is like the end all gotcha of feminist politics. Like probably at least a slight majority of people fantasize about that sort of thing because they want to be the center of attention and object of desire and don't want to do any work lol

ANYWAY TO CONCLUDE I feel like when Choke came out you could argue the women want to be oppressed line was satirizing masculinity and misogyny like he does in Fight Club but the later books he wrote just like..... make it seem like that line was actually written in bad faith lol

[villains4hire]

What’s the worst role playing experience you’ve had?

//Oh boy, it's a bad one lol. I'll give a summary but a heavy trigger warning involving predators etc.

//I think my friend of six years from the Star Vs the Forces of Evil fandom back when I rped solely Meteora a ways back, they had a year or so ago came out to me being into lolicon and I think trying to groom me using my trust and using my trauma as a survivor to being more vulnerable to them as it's hard for me to say no to someone that close over something that'd end a relationship. But it's no longer impossible for me anymore, I just can't have convos last a while or I'll cave though I would've blocked them later quietly after talking about it with a few other ppl I knew most likely. It makes any interactions I had with their Star feel weird back then as we were always platonic in how we used them, but I wonder sometimes for a few interactions we had rp wise along with the fact they're a vtuber that's slowly changed more and more to their vtuber model that didn't exactly look like a child, but started being kind of sus?

//I tried to save them at first though it ended with me cutting contact for the convo they came out. I'm pretty sure they knew what they were doing to me, as I cut contact when I realized they weren't going to change and felt bad about it at first, but realized later after reflecting on our interactions that it's been a long time thing in the works for them until they were finally comfortable to try that shit with me and guilt trip me.

//I hope they eat glass and I've moved on tbh and while I still love them bc I won't get into it? I can't really stop loving ppl etc after a certain point. But I won't forgive them and I'd beat their ass if we ever met.

//They're one of the main reasons why I don't interact with a lot of kid muses with a few other ppl though unless I REALLY trust the person in question to not be a fucking weirdo lol. As I do have a few of my characters be mothers/fathers/parents etc to a few kid/teenage characters.

#babylonianpirate #ooc #tbd #r1g

[weabooweedwitch]

I feel weird as fuck commenting on your situation in any capacity because I'm just an online rando who doesn't know you personally or the details of your issues w/ your mom beyond what you post and it all just feels a lil too parasocial but even though alleged therapist anon raises some (potentially?) good points about your relationship w/ her and maybe overall emotional issues I don't think you should beat yourself up too hard. It's normal for trauma survivors such as yourself to have some unhealthy and toxic interpersonal habits (slightly side-eyeing alleged therapist for not at least acknowledging this instead of just going in on you). You're not perfect, your mom is not perfect, it's okay we're all imperfect beings on this planet we call earth. Whether or not you're a covert narcissist (not gonna lie I had to google that one lmao) is between you and a personal, ahem, real therapist. Maybe you have some emotional dysregulation issues okay so what? Those can be improved!

Fun story about this online rando I was actually diagnosed with moderate to severe BPD at age 18. It turns out this was kind of a misdiagnosis in the first place, but my symptomatology (namely RSD from neurodiversity) very closely mimicked that of BPD and I had a lot of emotional problems perhaps similar to your own. You mentioned doing a round of DBT when you were a teenager and not finding success, but according to my actual real therapist and personal experiences it's very common for DBT to need multiple rounds before the skills fully sink in. It's also way better doing DBT as a fully formed adult than a teenager who frankly, probably doesn't take their mental health nearly as seriously as they should lmao (this crazy girl shit gets less and less cute with age I'm telling you). I'm now 23 and after 3 rounds of DBT I'm told I don't meet the criteria for borderline personality at all and haven't for a while now. Unfortunately there is a lot of stigma around this disorder (I noticed therapist anon throwing the word 'manipulative' around a bit), but that doesn't mean it's actually true. In many ways BPD is the modern day hysteria, but I won't go down that rabbit hole, just don't pay attention to what ignorant and oftentimes lowkey misogynistic people have to say online about BPD or other mental disorder! They are stupid armchair diagnoses who 99% of the time don't know wtf they're even talking about. You are loveable and worthy of life <3

I slept after work and i have a few asks now so, I'm gonna start this discussion again but since I uh, can get overwhelmed and over emotional I might eventually disappear from answering if u need to step back, but, anyways

One thing I have to be careful about is automatically leaning into "oh maybe they aren't even a real therapist" and I even got an ask suggesting this was one of those bitch lasagna people who were trying to actively make me miserable, which, I don't think is the case, but I also have to be careful automatically discrediting or lashing out emotionally at criticism because, well, a big problem I've always had is not being able to trust my own judgment and needing feedback from other people, stemming I assume from self loathing and anxiety stuff and I technically already am diagnosed with dependent personality disorder which, lack of self trust is a symptom of that (I'm sure I've mentioned that but maybe not?). One reason i began venting online when i was younger was because I would often have these sorts of incidents with my mother and I would use my blogs as the equivalent of an "am I the asshole" forum. I try to have a discussion and hearing other people's perspectives is good, and, a big issue I've struggled with is my mom immediately trying to get personal or discredit other people when they try to criticize her. Like, this isn't me going "see, my therapist thinks she's a stupid bitch" I mean when i was a minor she would literally go from absolutely loving a therapist and thinking they're extremely talented and caring and then when I got mad and repeated things like "hey you know, this is a licensed medical professional saying that a big component of our mother daughter dynamic is that you will literally wear me down to do what you want and you make it extremely difficult for me to set boundaries" and she has, literally, gone "they shouldn't be talking to you about me like that, I'm your parent, oh they just believe you because they've only listened to you, not me"

Well. I had multiple therapy sessions where, sometimes the topic would be dealing with my sister, or because I often feel like I struggle to bring up everything from not remembering, there WERE multiple times she would come into a session with me just to add on behaviors she's seen in me and things we've dealt with with my sister, and I had therapists tell me "yeah let's not have your mom come in here, she kept actually venting about her own issues and she was literally taking over your session and she was actually talking over you"

And im not, saying that to "prove" my mom is shitty or to say "oh look see, im justified" but like. My anger has built up over time? This didn't just magically start happening?

Yeah I need to stop blowing up over smaller things but also at the same time, I think I have a right to be frustrated when I'm seeing the same mistakes over and over, at least the ones that can financially damaging? I'm still SHOCKED she just stopped randomly paying the garage because. The remote isn't working and we have to use the keypad and I think some of the keypad buttons are loosening so sometimes you have to stand there and try it a few times because sometimes it won't close, it'll "untouch" a button you're still holding down and start opening again. And her response to that was "oh they weren't getting back to my emails so I just stopped paying rent" like. She. She literally dug us a hole worth hundreds of dollars for.... feeling entitled to help and getting mad over not getting it? She's been doing these sorts of behaviors for years? (Rm for post length)

Like gee I wonder what would happen if she pulled that shit with our landlord. "Oh, im gonna stop paying rent because the exhaust fan in the bathroom doesn't work" like no???? Why is she doing these things???? I was literally raised in poverty, why is she still doing this after we've had a literal lifetime of hardships???? Like gee thanks for not paying rent when you had solid income and now you're unemployed with hundreds of dollars due, that definitely helps, thanks, that's so much better, what a wise decision 🙄 and I call her out on it and she like, she literally sees nothing wrong with what she did? Because they didn't immediately cater to her, she stopped paying rent in protest, and that's Their fault. Like. That's fucking delusional. What if the property management tells our landlord we aren't paying for the garage and we get evicted??? Like it feels like she doesn't even realize the consequences???

Anyways back to what you actually said, fjfjfjf I rambled there, one thing I've noticed about DBT from the few times I was inpatient and outpatient is. You really do have to be in the right headspace for it to even work. It's so weird because certain things they would talk about and I would go "yeah well obviously, thats common sense" and other things would, kine of create an epiphany. Like for example, a phrase I try to keep with me is "its a process not an event" which basically means "don't get frustrated at immediate growth or results, things can take time" and this can apply to therapy, medication, really you can apply it to anything, but for me personally often when I am not seeing direct or immediate results, I feel like a failure and might give up way too soon, or beat myself up when I Am showing progress, just slowly.

Another DBT mindfulness technique I actually need to practice more (and tbh this could be an adhd thing, bc, I've always had focusing issues and I've read adhd can actually cause emotional regulation issues as well) is, like. When someone is speaking to you, don't be sitting there thinking of your reply, like, literally sitting there waiting for the second they stop speaking to say what you want, because then you're not thinking about and absorbing what the other person is saying. Although in my case often times I find myself doing that because I'm afraid I'll forget what I was gonna say, and my mom could also use a little work in this department

I definitely do think it's time for me to be reassessed though. I feel like now that I'm older and can better articulate my thoughts and memories and how things affect my relationships and ability to function, it can, I dunno, yield more results? Like something I heard constantly as a kid was "oh you have depression and anxiety and a lot of things overlap, let's treat those and see what symptoms are left" and its like homie that's kind of such a bad cop out sometimes, I feel like doctors adopting that mindset in my case really missed some important stuff. Like shit it feels weird to say since the trauma that caused it isn't recent, but I still display PTSD symptoms just in the sense that I'm jumpier and hypervigilant, like if there's an unexpected noise I still physically jump, I get startled easier, just the constant like, urge and need to look towards sounds or survey my surroundings which, I recognize my brain is literally going "hey, keep a look out for DANGER"

Regardless like, me being able to have these discussions with other people, positive or negative, is ultimately for my own benefit. Because this really is a sort of thing I can't do on my own. This IS a thing you take other people's feedbacks and perspectives on. But Jesus like. I'm not saying anyone has to hold my hand but that really felt so personally aggressive and it sent me onto a really horrible mental space. You know sometimes people insult themselves and belittle themselves because they think they're a lowly little worm and they just, they just hate themselves bro, like, it isn't always some inherent attempt to manipulate or demand pity and comfort. I've actually overnormalized saying horrible shit about myself and joking about suicide to the point I say it just, really easily, it comes naturally to me now, and that's definitely another habit I have to break

There's definitely stuff wrong with me, it's just a matter of finding out exactly what and, working towards treating that. It's just, unfortunately going to take some time and I need to make sure I keep my head on straight and don't do anything drastic in a fit of helplessness and despair or anything 😅

#like i dont rven feel like i can reply to these more supportive messages because of the accusations im just. tricking people? #idk... im just trying to be good and its hard. im having trouble controlling myslef #i often have like visceral physical reactions when i get upset like my heart literally begins racing #this isnt oh miranda is throwing a tantrum like im often sttaight up in crisis mode #idk. i just. want to know what to dk

[ouroborosblue]

The Big Book Of All Shitty Things

CW: CPTSD (no trauma descriptions)

One of the CPTSD things that took me the longest to come to terms with was that my childhood-through-twentysomething period is full of things that I don't bat an eye at but that are entirely not normal. It's one thing to have your therapist stare blankly at you while you're telling a story that you think is innocuous - that's awkward and difficult enough - but another thing altogether when you're telling a story to coworkers or friends and THEY stare blankly at you. I've learned to either not notice when it happens or make it a 'haha oops' moment and move on.

The hard part is in the cataloging of every single thing that was done to you. I spent 40 years of my life not knowing that I am a trauma survivor, so for the first several years after my dx, all I wanted to do was to identify every single fucking thing and put it in the mental Big Book of All Shitty Things. However, that meant that I was triggering myself, a lot. I was basically taking all of that traumatic weaponry that got used against me and continuing to hurt myself with it.

I don't know how exactly my mind changed, but it did. Somewhere along the line, I decided that I didn't care WHAT was done to me, or WHEN or BY WHOM. That doesn't matter as much. What does matter is learning how not to continue to beat myself up with it however many decades after the fact. Those assholes left knives laying around in my head, but that doesn't mean I have to pick them up and use them on myself. I can just shove them in a box and go on about my day.

I still get triggered occasionally, usually by outside sources but sometimes also when I've wandered onto the old familiar thought spiral. (That fucker has its own gravitational field, I swear.) I'm not 'cured' or whatever thing the neurotypicals want to call it. I'm still a trauma survivor - I'll always be a trauma survivor - and that comes with pitfalls. But at least the urge to exhaustively sift through all of my memories and pay special attention to the awful ones is gone.

#cptsd life #trauma survivor not trauma victim

[highfaelucien]

While on the topic of wishing sjm had done something different for her characters, I really wanted something more for cassian. For example, cassian’s wings going from being completely ruined in the end of acomaf to being 100% healed in acowar made no sense to me. I think it would’ve been an opportunity for the growth of cassian’s character to see him go through the loss of losing the ability to fly and instead retrain himself to be a warrior in other ways and find other things about himself that prove his own worth to himself. Given the fact that cassian’s confidence is aligned with his ability to protect and serve others, it just would have been sooo good to see him overcome his grief and become even stronger of a character. And how wings, in general, are a sense of male pride among illyrians. I think this would’ve been the perfect way to write cassian and have him break away from his own idea of masculinity. He could have redefined what it meant for him to be a Man ™. Ugh, it just could have been so GOOD, imagine the character we could have gotten from him.

Listen, after ACOMAF, when this happened, EVERYONE was buzzing about this. Most people thought he wouldn't outright lose his wings permanently, but there would be a LOT required.

And then ACOWAR came and approximately nothing happened whatsoever. Oh he had to be healed. the healer had to rebuild his wings. he had to do strength training every day. But fundamentally: not a sausage.

Personally? I think Maas chickend out. I think she was unable to commit to taking Cassian's wings, or figuring out how to write him as anything other than what she's established him as: fun jock man who likes to hit things real hard and make dick jokes sometimes.

Having to see Cassian vulnerable? Having to see him broken, and struggling, and having to reevaluate his entire life and self-esteem and sense of masculinity would have been an incredible option for a character arc.

Most of the theorising/Nessian fics involved Nesta helping him. The two of them being broken/fundamentally altered by their experiences in Hybern - she being killed and Made with a dark power, Cassian losing his wings.

There was expected bonding over that, peeling away the masks they both wear to discover the softness underneath. The two of them being able to reach one another, because of their bond, in a way the others could not. It produced some pretty epic stuff, honestly.

And how badly I wanted that I didn't FULLY realise until the disappointment of ACOSF, when it hit fully.

Because instead of stripping Cassian back and seeing the tactician, the strategist, forcing him to put his other skills to use, to develop those skills, rather than 'smash with sword and ask questions later'. This man is a General. All the combat training in the world doesn't let you be good at this job if you can't command, if you can't use tactics, if you can't strategise.

And THIS is where I wanted to see Nesta. Nesta, the woman who calculated how many ships would be needed to save the humans of Prythian. The woman who looked at Greysen's manor and assessed its capabilities and saw a prison. The woman who devours history novels, who has a tactical, cunning mind. Who has never been a warrior or a creature of brute strength or physical abilities.

THIS is how I wanted to see Nesta evolve. This was how I wanted to see her develop. I didn't want her taken out of lady's dresses. I didn't want her forced into fighting leathers, to basically become another copy of her sister, and follow down that path.

I wanted her to take her own. I wanted her to finally be in a place where she could learn, and strategise, and contribute. And I wanted her to work with Cassian on this - who was grounded because of his wings, who couldn't command on the frontlines anymore, or even fight. Who had to stay back, and see how he handled this. How he maintained his authority. How he maintained his sanity without his wings.

We could have had so fucking much. Such a powerful narrative about survival. I wanted her in the library, with the other survivors, (and with fucking MORRIGAN - not sidelined, not dismissed, not being bitchy and catty for the sake of it. But someone who visits the library frequently, who interacts with the women there, and sometimes just is a woman there herself, because there are still hard days.)

But no. No instead of something nuanced, and original, and actually tailored to Nesta's strengths as a character, we got Yet Another Weapon's Trainng Montage.

We got the narrative that the only way to heal from abuse is to be able to beat the shit out of your abusers. Because that's #GirlPower, right?

It makes me so furious I almost want to just. Just fucking rewrite the whole damn fucking thing myself the way it SHOULD have gone.

And I know you talked about Cassian and not Nesta, so I do apologise, but they were tied together. But I agree.

We all wanted Cassian to evolve from that 'Lord of Bloodshed' / "savage brute" because reading between the lines and forcing some nuance from these books, which is the only way to survive: Cassian has a lot of layers. There's a lot of trauma there. A lot of insecurity. A lot of angst. A lot of heart. A lot of fucking INTELLIGENCE. (I'll fight on that point, I really will. Cassian is not a dumb himbo who can barely add 1 and 1).

But sjm was too busy writing him having a hard on for Nesta to explore....anything about himself. Or his relationship with Azriel, and Rhys, and Mor, and everyone else.

The removal (even temporarily) of his wings would have allowed for a LOT of that exploration.

Firstly, the fact that he injured them by CHOICE, saving Azriel's life. That would have been such a deep connection and bond between them. The guilt that Az would feel - but the potential for Cassian to step in, even with his wings gone, and say that he'd do it again.

Because Azriel is his brother. He loves him. And it was worth it. It would be worth it a hundred times over to save him. Because he's worth saving. And he's worth sacrificing for. And what that would have done for Az as a character, too. Who always offers himself up first for dangerous missions, puts himself in peril to protect the others.

And having Cassian join Feyre and Az's flying lessons? Because Cass having to relearn how to fly once (if) his wings healed to that extent, means letting Azriel train him. Because those old instincts aren't enough. And he has to learn how to strengthen them, and train with them. And how this affects his perception of himself and his masculinity, as he said. But also deepening his understanding for Az, and the bond the two of them share, in having this experience together.

Bonding with Rhys, who FINALLY fucking opens up to someone and has some nuanced therapy-like conversations about what happened with Amarantha. The sacrifces they've made for their people. How they'd do it again but it still hurts, and changes them, and how they have to learn and grow and move on from that and heal together.

Rhys working with Cassian on his other talents, using him as the skilled strategist and tactician he MUST be. Helping him to develop that, keeping his brother from losing his mind while he can't fight or use his physicality to solve problems, as he usually does.

Mor personally healing and tending to Cassian. Mor being there at his bedside every day while he was bed bound. Mor becoming as possessive and overprotective of both him and Az as any mate ever has been.

Mor speaking to him about her own rehabilitation after what her family did to her, the physical toll that took on her. Mor's heart breaking because she nearly lost both him and Az and she couldn't handle that at all. Mor reiterating how much she fucking loves him, and how she needs him.

Mor helping him through the darker days of his depression because she's been there. And she knows what it is to put on a front. To always be laughing, and joking, without the seriousness of life -leave that to the others. But sometimes it's too much and he needs to break down. And be angry. And furious. And hopeless. And scared. And that's what she's there for. Because she understands.

Mor winnowing him to his favourite spots that he can't fly to anymore, just so he can be there. The two of them spending time, and bonding, and developing that relationship we got in ACOMAF beyond 'we bicker constantly and drink together and make sexual innuendos'.

Even Amren showing up and doing her part. Snapping at him to stop brooding so much. But also bringing him some of her puzzles. Some of her favourite military history books (which she has anotated and edited to highlight the bits that have been incorrectly reported). Spending time with him to stop him going mad. Exhausting herself those first few days personally attending to Cassian's wings, and snarling at anyone who tried to interfere.

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH.

IT COULD HAVE DEVELOPED SO MUCH WITH THE INNER CIRCLE. AND CASSIAN. AND NESSIAN. AND JUST. EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER BUT NAW. IT WAS BASIC ASS AND BORING AND I'M GONNA DIE MAD ABOUT IT.

#cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #rhysand #azriel #morrigan acotar #amren #acotar series #acotar meta #cassian meta #IT'S WHAT WE DESERVED I TELL YOU #IT'S WHAT WE FUCKING /DESERVED/ #im still ANGY #answer tag #anonymous #taryn answers #long post #taryn rants #anti sjm #anti acotar

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- At Last

Summary: Finally reunited with Geralt, the two of you attempt to avoid Nilfgaard and find a tavern for the evening, although it appears destiny has other plans.

Warning: angst, fluff

 Masterlist

-last and final chapter my Witcher friends, that is until next season, and yes I will be continuing reader and Geralt’s story. There’ll be more monster slaying and adventures to come!

Within minutes after reuniting with your silver haired lover, did the two of you immediately find a spot elsewhere from the main trail for well...you know. A place hidden away from any unwanted prying eyes so that you both could show one another just how much you've desperately missed each other, in more ways then one. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so euphoric, perhaps that's just what making sweet love to your Witcher does to you. Even when he's pounding you against a tree while whispering the most dirtiest of sweet nothings into your ear.

You hadn't touched him like this in weeks, nor seen him for that matter, but he felt wonderful and seemed to be enjoying his time with you just the same. Though all too soon would your bodies have to part from one another's close embrace. All to your utter disappointment did the two of you end your hasty love making session, seeing as the land is closely crawling with Nilfgaard soldiers and who knows what else.

You got what you could get, and anyways, that won't be the first nor last time you two fuck in the woods.

The grass feels soft against your clothed bottom as you lace up your boot, your gaze set to the individual across from you as your eyes unbashfuly admire Geralt while he lays in the grass shirtless. His beautiful golden irises staring up into the tree tops as the wind sways the leaves every which way.

You pull at the leather strings, tying a confident knot with skilled hands while a small breeze blows your hair back, you're admittedly feeling quite delightful if you're being honest. Though when your crimson eyes glance up at the snowy haired man again, he's turned his head to you.

Your eyes meet at once, sending a blissful smirk upon your lips, "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" You teased, narrowing your eyes in a playful manner.

Geralt's lips curl into a half smile as he lets out a small hum in reply. Setting your arms upon your propped up knees, you freely show him an eye roll. Earning a proper chuckle from the man, "Y/N I was simply cherishing your stunning appearance."

Shaking your head you smile, "Yes, of course you were. And I am simply looking at a shirtless man with the most utter respect and clean of thoughts in my mind." You casually shrug, "Nothing else going on in here, I promise."

Geralt raises a greyish brow, moving to prop himself up upon his elbow, "That sounds honest." He hums, "But you are no virtuous maiden my love, and by that telling look on your face only moments ago. I can only imagine what things you may have been thinking of then."

You let out a snort before deciding to crawl over to him, where he lets you push him back into the grass, "Indeed I am not." You whisper close, leaning on an elbow as your other hand caresses his cheek, "But I am undoubtedly in love with a Witcher of all creatures to walk this earth, so if we're using our heads, what does that truly say of me then?"

His golden eyes keep to yours as he brings a hand to rest over your arm, "I would say it means perhaps I am a fool to fall for one of my enemies' creations, my dear Y/N..." He pauses for a moment, taking this brief second to focus on you and only you as he holds you with the most care, "you are most cunning and beautiful."

Leaning into his small touch you grin blissfully, a feeling of ease and calmness setting over you as Geralt studies your face, "You are no fool my White Wolf. That I am sure of without a doubt in my mind, I can't seem to be able to even jest about it." You chuckle, "Though you tempt me at times." The smile that he gives you is the most precious thing your eyes could ever be blessed with, its warm and genuine, filled with the deepest and most purest of love for you. His lady of night, the one monster he could never slay, nor would he ever dare.

Though your heart fills with joy for him, a sudden sadness seeps into your soul, obstructing your happiness. Your eyes fall downcast as you move to lay yourself next to Geralt in the grass, he follows you closely, a frown displaying itself upon his handsome features at your sudden spurt of melancholy.

"What troubles you Y/N?" Wonders Geralt, shifting his body so that he can rest an arm over your chest, pulling you in close as he studies your face.

Resting a hand on Geralt's muscular arm, you frown once again, "I was brief about my short time in Aretuza and the Elven keep, I know I told you about all those bastard soldiers I killed and when I helped the mages the best I could.....it's just. I haven't told you everything." Your voice feels so small in the large forest, now since you think about it. You haven't had the time to completely process what happened at Sodden's Hill, with all those soldiers, the other mages, and especially Yennefer.

So much death.

His brow furrows in thought, unsure of what you're going to reveal next, all he knows is that he doesn't plan on letting you go for awhile longer. Your Witcher hums in reply, giving you a moment to find your words. Taking a deep heavy sigh you turn your head to look out at the clouds. "We tried to protect the North from Nilfgaard, those fuckers had their own spout of powerful mages to test against our own. For the whole day we all fought together...every man, woman, child, and mage. Fucking farmers and tired refugees, they weren't warriors, Geralt. None of them were."

You take another shaky breath as Geralt presses his head against your cheek, "I did what I could to save them. But I'm just one person, I couldn't save them all....though I must admit, those people fought braver then most royal soldiers I've ever seen. They have good heart in them....well, I guess did. Not many survivors I think, just the ones who had enough sense to get the fuck out of there.....and of course myself, Tissaia, Triss, and Yenn..." A small lump forms in your throat as you remember what happened, causing you to choke on your own words for a moment.

You bite your lip hard, your hand squeezing tightly onto Geralt's muscular forearm as you collect yourself enough to speak, though your voice is raspy and broken, "Yennefer, right. She fought valiantly like a true warrior, she was like a phoenix, like a raging mighty dragon of power and flame...Geralt you should have seen her." A tear falls down the side of your face as you smile into the cloud covered sun, your voice above a whisper, "I'd never seen anything like it....it was.....beautiful."

A light kiss is placed gently over your tear streak while his hand moves to find yours, "What I would have given to see you slay those dogs alongside Yennefer, Y/N. I'm sure she is proud to call you a friend."

"She's dead." Those two words leave your lips so quietly that Geralt almost doesn't catch them, but he does.

The heavy weight of this news takes him off guard, he did not expect you to just lay such tragic tidings over him like that, he may have been greatly annoyed by Yennefer but he did see that stubborn mage as a friend. Though his heart hurts for how broken and defeated you feel from the terrors you'd underwent only yesterday, the great loss you've experienced, all of your traumas crashing down atop your soul in this moment. He wants to comfort you the best he can.

He listens to the steady beating of your heart, understanding how sad yet angry you're feeling, "I'm sorry Y/N. Truly I am."

A tired smile forms at the corners of your lips as you turn teary eyes over to your Witcher, your faces mere inches from one another, "She was my first real friend you know, and I think I was hers. I'm grateful to have spent the last of her hours on this earth by her side then.....glad she wasn't alone. I just wish..." Swallowing the lump in your throat, you focus on Geralt's shimmering irises once again, "I just wish the world wouldn't take everyone I give a shit about, so don't plan on doing anything stupid, okay? I can't lose anyone else or so help me god or whoever is listening out there, I will slaughter the bastards who dare take you away from me."

"I do not doubt it my love, and don't worry Y/N. I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon." He speaks honestly before pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "You have my word."

——

Geralt holds tightly to Roach's leather reigns as he keeps a firm hand over your lower abdomen, a small content smile gracing over your features while you sit comfortably in front of him on the large mare. Just as you always have.

Your hands rest over his as you keep a steady lookout over the trail ahead, silently overjoyed to be leaning against Geralt and all of his godly body holding you up. A blissfully drunken grin keeps to your face while your mind tumbles and reels with everything that he's just confided about from the last four weeks, like what you'd done earlier after a fine quick session of love making.

Apparently he's been busy.

Though for the second time today, another troubling thought randomly pops into your mind as things tend to do, and now you feel this time is as good as ever to actually address it. Squeezing his arm a bit you let out a half amused huff, showing that you're about to speak your mind on something idiotic Geralt has done, and he knows it.

Your Witcher figured you'd eventually spill your two cents, as you always seem to do.

"So." You begin, slow and filled with something Geralt's not quite sure of, he mentally cringes as you squeeze his arm again, "you just told him to fuck off and that you'd prefer to never see him ever again? Just like that? To our bard. Jaskier."

Geralt pauses for a moment as you wait for an answer, "Yes." Is all he whispers, low and filled with regret. He told you all about Jaskier and himself hours ago, hoping you wouldn't bring it back up, but of course you would. He's never that lucky, there's nothing you don't ever catch.

You raise a brow and shrug, "Can't say I blame you. That idiot has gotten our asses in a lot of shit over the years." He lets out a breath, glad you're not fuming at his heated rash actions on the mountainside after you dramatically parted ways. Suddenly you grip his arm tight, enough to actually feel uncomfortable, he sucks in a breath as you squeeze, "Although, I don't believe Jaskier completely deserved that." You seethe through clenched teeth before letting go of your iron grip. So you are angry after all, thinks Geralt, funny way of showing it.

"I know....I was just....I'm sorry Y/N." He replies, his voice much softer then he'd intended.

Your face falls as you feel the hurt in his words for what he's done, "I know Geralt." You sigh, "Enough with the sorry's and regrets okay....what's done is done and there's nothing we can do about it now. And anyways, as I like to say "we'll cross that bridge when we get there" so don't feel shitty about it now." He gives you a hidden smile as you chuckle to yourself, "You can feel shitty about it later."

Geralt lets out an amused snort, "Always one for wise words Y/N. What would I do without your kind intellect?"

"Dunno." You casually shrug, "Be a far less intriguing creature I suppose."

He tenderly kisses the top of your head, "I'd be a fool to argue against that logic."

"You're still a fool either way." You jest, cackling at your friendly jab at him, earning a gentle squeeze on your hip that sends butterflies into your stomach.

Gods the things he does to you.

For a couple more hours would you both ride Roach down the trail, past countless trees and a few streams until the sun would begin her descent over the land. Through this time you've been admittedly back to your old habits of amusing your Witcher to pass the time, mixed with seeing how long it would take to annoy him before he threatened to kick you off the mare.

It had been quite the eventful stretch of time before you caught the nasty pheromones of war seeping throughout the forest from some place close by, but not seen by your skilled eyes just yet. You held your tongue, not wanting to worry Geralt over something as insignificant as rotting corpses in the woods. But as Roach gets closer and closer, you begin to feel more strange, your scarlet irises suddenly catch a ripped tent behind a few trees.

Nilfgaard. Smell of death, more destroyed tents. Those bastards did this.

Your nose crinkles in disgust, the scent of freshly decaying corpses overloading your senses just about making your eyes water, you can't smell anything else but the stench of death.

"What I would give to be in a flower meadow right now." You seethe, blinking away the reactive tears in your eyes, Geralt looks down to you, unsure of what you mean considering his sense of smell is not nearly as prominent as yours. "I think Nilfgaard found a camp just over there, gods it reaks."

His grey brows furrow in thought, though he's left his words in the back of his throat as Roach walks closer to the carnage. Suddenly the three of you are face to face with an older man and his horse cart as he desperately and stupidly does his best to move the dead in piles for whatever it is that he's intended for them.

What a strange man.

Geralt shifts from behind you, tilting his head at the bearded man, "Ill winds follow grave robbers." States your Witcher as he hugs you closer protectively, or perhaps to keep you from doing anything destructive. The greyed man looks to the two of you, quietly acknowledging your existence before turning around to continue his doings.

"If I was a grave robber, I'd be taking their belongings, Butcher." He adds gruffly, squatting down to examine another slain body, "So best keep your beast with you." He adds, side eyeing you cautiously as he goes to move another of the deceased. Well, he knows Geralt's a Witcher and that you're not human. Maybe he's not that idiotic?

Geralt smirks, "If I was to let her satiate her appetite, you'd be amongst the corpses." The man falls silent, looking wearily between the two of you as your scarlet eyes trail over the nervous man.

He lets out a sigh, finally breaking under both your hard gazes, "I was goin' home to my family when I came upon these poor souls." He points towards the rotting bodies, "Cintran refugees. Dead at least a week. Now they're a feast for the crows."

"They're not for crows." You implore, shifting your ruby irises across the shadowy wood line while you listen to the buzzing of feasting flies. You had previously forgotten about what else may lurk in the shadows ready to feed, until now.

"Wolves?" He wonders.

"No."

Shaking his head, he ignores your odd wary vigilance, turning to glance at the two of you, "With more hands I could move quicker."

Yeah, fuck that.

"The only thing you should do quickly is flee." Warns Geralt, alert to the same understanding of what creatures may be hiding close by. The strange man grunts as he drags a body over the leaves, ignorantly discounting both your warnings.

With a click of his tongue, Geralt pulls at the mares reigns, "Come on, Roach, back to Kaer Morhen." You shake your head at the man as Roach begins to take a couple steps forward.

"Don't leave!" Pleads the bearded man, while dragging another, "Look at these people. Innocent people, killed for what?" He exclaims, sucking in labored breaths as he stands to look out over the mass of dead refugees, "So Nilfgaard can have more land? We owe it to 'em to do better."

"I'm not better." Mutters Geralt as he directs Roach away.

Always so dramatic huh.

You don't make it even three feet before your sensitive ears prick at the sound of crawling under the dirt. You know exactly what's now hunting the man, without a second thought do you break from Geralt's muscular arms to jump off of Roach.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you race for the panicked man who's now scrambling away on the forest floor as two hungry ghouls claw for a taste. Realizing all too late that your silver dagger is lost to the ages you quickly adapt to instead aim for electrocuting the ugly fuckers.

Your palms spread wide as white hot lightening crackles and sparks in the misty night air, piercing the grotesque bodies of the living undead.

They screech in pain, giving Geralt just enough time to cut them down before they're able to recover, the man stops whimpering in fear as he turns his head up to you and Geralt. Who's now crouched a couple feet from the wide eyed man while he cleans off his sword, his eyes now two pools of glistening obsidian.

Sparks crackle in your palms as you huff in annoyance, "Go home." Your voice strong and steady.

The man snaps his attention over to you, "I can help." He insists urgently, causing you to roll your crimson eyes.

"One bite will kill you." Implores Geralt sternly.

The man turns to him, "Or you two." Then back to you again, his eyes fretful as you notice how he's just about shaking. He's terrified.

You let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm immune." You conclude gruffly, pointing to both himself and Geralt, "But not you two, so if you want to see your wife again...go home." The man stays still, breathing heavily as he sits on the soft ground, his mind swirling.

Geralt slowly stands, glaring at the man, "Go...home!" He snaps in that gravely voice of his, the petrified man stares at him before looking to your equally as stoic face. The blood red glow of your irises and the low crackling of lighting in your palm shifting his mind to a new understanding of his current situation.

He lets out a shaky breath, "All right..." Huffs the bearded man before scrambling to his feet, his boots carrying him over to his cart as he throws something into the back.

You ignore him and watch as Geralt walks slowly forward, his black eyes cautiously surveying over the land as you take a step, "Let me be the first to say, but I don't happen to feel very fond of what else follows." You whisper softly, your voice laced with concern as you sniff the foggy damp air, smelling nothing but decaying flesh as it wafts into your nostrils.

Geralt holds his weapon tightly, opening his mouth to answer, but before he's able to say anything a piercing screech breaks out from the woods. His sword flashes in the moonlight as he cuts down another hungry ghoul. Without warning another one breaks out of the earth to his right, dead in a flash as he slashes it across the throat.

The dirt bulges upward as another crawls from underneath the ground, heading directly for Geralt, the beast doesn't stand a chance as your Witcher stabs the soil directly in front of him. Killing the damn ghoul in an instant. Suddenly a black screaming flash races past you and tackles him to the ground.

"Oh fuck!" Unknowingly leaves you lips as you race to his aid, five of them have him pinned to the ground already as you pull his silver sword from the earth that he had left behind in the scuffle. These starving bastards don't see you coming as you begin slashing and hacking violently away at the ghouls. Trying your damn best to get them off of Geralt, they scream in agony as you end their half-lives.

More race out from the shadows to surround the two of you, Geralt pushes and punches more off of him as you slice through their grotesque inhuman bodies. So caught up in your own world that you don't have time to make sure if Geralt is all right when another one jumps for your arm, only to be greeted with a hard cut to its sunken in stomach.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you turn your head left and right, readying for anything else. When nothing appears to move you lower his sword to your side, turning around to give Geralt a smirk and no less a cocky comment.

Your face instantly falls when he whispers a harsh "fuck" while he leans down to look at something on his left thigh. He shakes his snowy mane, standing to his full height as he takes a limped step towards you. His obsidian eyes finally finding yours as he takes another troubled step forward, he looks like a mess.

Your eyes glance down at the bite mark revealing itself from an opened spot in his dark pants, you suck in a sharp breath, your face dead serious as you watch him with wide glossy eyes. His face looks rough and sweaty as he limps closer, suddenly falling to his knees as he stares at you, almost pleadingly, his dark eyes full of pain.

"Geralt?" You whisper, your nerves standing on end at the sight of him, no way he's just been bitten, it can't be.

Your lip quivers as you drop the forgotten sword upon the earth, taking hasty steps as he looks tiredly into your frightened face. You quickly kneel down to meet his eye level as he lets out a shaky breath, your hands gently touch his dirt smudged face as he wills his hands to grasp your arms.

His grip is unnaturally weak as you look deeply into his eyes, your voice shaky, "You're fine. You're fine, it's just a small wound nothing worth worrying over....it's just..it's nothing...you're fi...." His head falls downward in your palms as his hands slip from their place on your arms, "No, no, no, no....Geralt, love look at me! Look at me!" He answers back with a low groan, you swallow the building lump in your throat as he struggles to lift his tired gaze to yours.

The weakest of smiles displays over his handsome features as he lets out a tired sigh, "You're beautiful....you know that?" His voice is soft and broken as you hold up his face, biting your lip to keep from crying. He smiles sluggishly, "Thank you for loving me...I....Y/N...I...love y..."

Suddenly his eyes shut as he goes limp against you, you catch him and quickly move to gently position his body so that his head can rest in your lap, "Geralt no!" You exclaim desperately through tears that are starting to blur your vision, "Wake up! Wake the fuck up you dick...you can't leave me here!" You shake his shoulder but to no avail, "Fuck! No, no, no....I just got you back." Tears race down your cheeks as a sob racks through your entire body, you suck in a breath, trying to contain your pain.

This isn't fucking fair!

The old man hustles to your side, now made aware of the dire circumstances, "Ohhh, dear...Uh....we can take him to my house, if you will.....Just, keep him awake." Proposes the man, you hold Geralt closer, your wet cheeks glistening in the moonlight as your crimson eyes glow blood red.

"If you help me save him I won't end your pathetic life because of your stupidity!" You snap, making him flinch backwards as you glare at him, a low growl emitting from deep within your throat. If Geralt dies you might tear this man to shreds.

He quickly regains his bearings, now understanding that his life is at stake if Geralt dies under his care. The man walks around you, reaching down to pull Geralt from out of your lap. Once you're free he looks to you, "Miss he's quite heavy, this one. Could you lift his legs and help me carry him to...."

He's left with nothing but a genuinely bewildered look as you pick your sleeping Witcher up, holding him in both your arms while ignoring the mans shocked expression as you walk over to the large wooden cart. Setting Geralt in the back on a couple soft bags of goods.

Jumping in next to him, you kneel down by his side while the man quickly ties Roach to the back. It's going to be a long night. Until dawn broke out over the horizon, the great sun coating the land in daylight would you lay by his side as he slept through the multitude of hours.

Finally coming to in the late morning, looking more pale then usual and clearly disoriented, his golden irises trying so hard to focus on your blurry face. The man, who revealed himself to be Yurga, kept his horses at a fast trot while you continued to hold tightly onto your Witcher's arm, squeezing it every time he would begin to close his eyes. Just keep him awake.

"I don't know about you." Starts Yurga, "But I'm not liking the sound of those explosions in the distance....bloody Nilfgaard better keep themselves far away from here. We don't need trouble like that round these parts. Not after everything they've done."

Geralt stirs underneath your touch, snapping your attention back down to him, you watch as his eyelids open and close, his golden irises looking rather lost and hazy. He's so pale, too pale.

"Easy does it Butcher." Affirms Yurga as he turns his head to the side, "You got bit, best keep your sights trained on the pretty lady in front of you."

Geralt's brows furrow as he turns his own head to the side at the sound of the mans voice, confusion clear on his face since the poison from the ghouls has begun to mess with his mind. Seated closely on his right, his muscular arm on your left and his broad body on your right, his face is much more faded in color now. Too pale and sickly looking for your liking.

Reaching an arm out, you gently touch his face, turning his head back to you, "Geralt, keep those fine golden eyes on me, you gotta focus love....you're becoming delirious, but you're not dead. Just stay awake Geralt I'll be right here." He blinks hard, his face appearing dazed as he listens, suddenly trying to sit himself up.

You quickly react, leaning over him to grasp both his arms, stopping him from moving anymore, "Be still Geralt. You'll only make things worse if you try and move, your bite is spreading slowly but moving will only bring you more pain." His face grimaces in discomfort, you release your grip, sitting normally once again.

Oh Geralt, be strong for me.

Your face a mask of deep worry at his reaction, he may be a Witcher, but if his wounds are not treated properly he will die. Leaving you completely and utterly alone in this world whether you're ready for it or not. You rest a hand over his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heartbeat, he stares up at the sky, his gaze lost in the clouds.

You can tell he's probably watching some hallucination playing out before him, his gaze seems so far away while you sit here on this stupid hay covered cart pulled by the slowest two horses you've ever seen. He stirs again, his pale face trying to find yours as he focuses in on your worried appearance.

You can tell he's back, especially when his left arm quickly takes yours that was previously resting over his chest. He squeezes your hand, "My bag. Y/N I need my bag." His voice his gravelly and urgent, you quickly turn to look around, the pull of the cart jostling you while your eyes hunt for the bag.

"Yurga stop the fucking horses for a moment!" You yell, letting go of Geralt's hand as you grab the leather bag. Yurga directs his horses to stop, turning abruptly around to see what's the matter.

"The bottle....Y/N.....you know which one." Rasps Geralt as your eyes quickly find the small glass bottle containing some dark liquid, a type of healing potion for sure.

Handing the potion to your Witcher he hastily takes it, ripping off the cork with his teeth before making a face and chugging most of it. He groans, pouring the rest over his infected wound, more groans of pain sounding as you listen to the sizzle of flesh take to the healing mixture.

Gently patting his arm you hand him a small smile of reassurance, "You definitely need a healer, I'm afraid not even my blood can heal these wounds. Those fucking ghouls." You growl as Yurga urges his horses to begin trotting down the trail again.

His body rests against the piles of clothes and hay while his hand reaches out for yours, "I need to go to the Blue Mountains....Y/N...tell him I need to...." Mutters Geralt with tired eyes.

You squeeze his hand, "What? No, we don't have....you don't have enough time, Geralt you'll die."

"He'll heal me....I just need to go...."

"No!" You cry, there is absolutely no way you'd both make it to the Blue Mountains before his heart stops beating, "Stay awake you fucker, we'll heal you soon enough, just stay awake....we're almost to Yurga's farm. You'll get proper treatment there....just stay awake."

Until the sun would set and the darkness of night crept over the land would you constantly play as an ever continuous jostling annoyance to Geralt, doing all that you must to keep him awake and alive. Soon enough would Yurga have to stop and let his old horses rest for awhile. In the meantime, you'd help Geralt to lean against a tree as you went off in search of healing plants that could help to temporarily stop the spread.

With not much to give from your herb hunting, you walked forth from out of the bushes and into the grassy tree covered opening where you're greeted with the sight of a dark-red haired mage tending to your Witcher's infected bite wound. You immediately freeze, though she's too focused to even realize that you're watching her work. For a couple minutes would you observe her talents before blinking once and suddenly she's gone. Just like that, gone.

Well that was fucking bizarre.

Suddenly Geralt bolts upright, your brows furrow as he looks all around him, his wide eyes shifting right and left until they finally find your familiar form walking closer. He lets out an audible sigh of relief, before his grey brows furrow once again in thought.

"Where'd she go? The woman?" He wonders, confusion clear on his face as he watches you crouch down to meet his eye level.

You raise a brow, "Can't say I'd know, but I wish I'd have time to thank her for doing whatever magical mage shit she did to your infected bite mark." You reply with a chuckle, "Now you've gotten yourself a new scar added to the collection. Though still a very handsome work of art in my humble opinion."

His face softens at your relaxed tone, suddenly realizing that there's no need to worry anymore, "Thank you Y/N."

You laugh, "What for? I didn't do that much, I didn't even know how to properly heal you. And I definitely wasn't planning on turning you into a vampire just to have you around longer."

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as you study his face, "For keeping me awake this long, no matter how much I wanted to shove you off the wagon."

"I knew you wanted to do it, I could see it in your face. That is, when you weren't staring off into nothing like a lost boy who had too many special herbs." You jest, earning a pleasing chuckle from your sweaty Witcher. You smile, "Now. Come on my love, let's go." You reach a hand out for him to take, without a second thought he accepts, letting you pull him to his feet.

He shakes his head, steadying himself as he holds your arms, "Geralt you're acting like you've just downed half a dozen mugs of ale, lets rest on the cart yeah? Yurga will take us to his farm where we can get some proper food and drink, and if we're lucky....you some new pants."

His smile is soft as he looks down at you, Geralt touches your chin affectionately, "That sounds rather lovely."

Before he can do anything else you grasp the hand that's touching your chin, "I know exactly where your mind is going next and all I have to say is you're getting a bit more cleaned up before those pretty lips of yours are allowed to kiss me." He closes his eyes, resting his head against yours as he releases his hand from your chin. Now pulling you closer with his large strong hands.

"I could have died." He mutters, his gravely voice laced with a friendly playfulness.

"But you didn't."

"I could have."

"I know." You finally sigh, "You're still sweaty and smell like a dog who rolled in cow shit."

He lightly chuckles, "That's rude." Before pressing a feather light kiss onto your forehead where he then pulls away after a moment, "Guess we should help the old man pack the rest of his bags away."

Gripping his torso tighter you lean in close, "I'm enjoying myself too much." You admit, "Even though you smell rather atrocious at the moment."

"Oh please Y/N." Muses Geralt, his face inches from yours, "You still called be pretty when I was covered head to toe in Selkiemore guts, if I do recall."

"Did I? Must have slipped." You mutter lowly, brushing your lips past his.

"Y/N." Warns Geralt, his hot breath fanning over your smirking face as your ruby irises flicker from his plush lips to his golden eyes.

"On second thought. Perhaps you do look rather lovely at the moment, I think I'll just have to..." He's left guessing what you would have said next as your lips press firmly against his, both your arms pulling one another even closer now. Despite all he's just endured, Geralt tastes quite nice, his muscular body feeling even better holding you so close.

His lips move with yours in some pleasurable heated dance, soon enough does his calloused hands reach up to place themselves on either side of your face, you smile into the kiss at his urgency to hold you close. A couple more lingering blissful moments are shared flush against one another before your Witcher inevitably pulls away, first pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your lips once again before finally pulling away to look into your glistening eyes.

His hands still gently holding your cheeks, while your own ones grip around his forearms, "I hope there's more of that for when we find a tavern later." You muse, biting your lip as Geralt's eyes stare deeply into yours.

"Y/N. I'll let you take me any way you want." Mutters Geralt in that low and gravelly voice of his, "Just me and you."

"I think I'd like that very much." His lips find yours once again as your fingers trail down his back, wishing so hard that you were both laying on a soft warm bed in some hidden tavern in the mountains.

While you're both unbashfully exploring each others bodies like it was the first time, a sudden cough is heard from behind you causing the two of you to abruptly pull apart and look in that direction, "Uh...don't mean to intrude, but uh.....could we get moving if ya both don't mind?" Asks Yurga politely, trying not to find either of your amused gazes as he looks at a stick on the ground.

Right, you'd probably want to get out of the woods first.

The merchant Yurga had been true to his word, he had finally at long last made it to his home placed in a great clearing within the woods. A comfortable farmhouse on an open spot of land away from the fighting and battles nearby. His cart came to an abrupt halt as his wife quickly opened up the door and raced out to meet him, excitement flowing through her veins as a huge smile graced her face.

"We're all okay. The war is close, but we're okay. I need to tell you something." Exclaims Yurga's blonde curly haired wife.

"Me too." Affirms the older man with a slight thrill lacing his words.

His wife smiles, "I met a girl. An orphan, I found her in the woods nearby." Geralt halts all movement at the startling words, you doing the same as both of your furrowed gazes find one another.

No way this is who you think she's actually talking about. Hundreds of girls have been orphaned by the war.

"I met a Witcher." Speaks Yurga with a nod, "And a dhampir, if you'll believe it." Without warning Geralt jumps down from the cart and begins walking towards the woods much to your confusion, "They saved my life. Now fetch 'em some ale before they go to Kaer Mor-somthing." Urges Yurga, while you jump down from the cart, making hasty steps in Geralt's direction as Yurga and his wife finally look over to watch as the two of you make for the woods, "Hey, Butcher. Butcher! Where you goin'?" Shouts Yurga as Geralt continues onward, almost caught in a trance as he ignores the rambling merchant.

"Y/N?" Shouts the older man, causing you to stop and turn to him, "Where you two goin'?"

Your brows furrow, not completely sure of yourself, "I don't know." You whisper, keeping your body still as you look out at the thick greenery where Geralt had just wandered into for some unknown reason. You can't explain why, but you feel as though this is a path that only he must take.

The girl in the woods will be with him always.

He walks through the forest, his feet taking him somewhere or rather to someone who's been hiding from him for a long time. He can't even fully explain it, the call he feels to find what he's seeking. He suddenly stops, thinking his thoughts must be false and this urge to find who lingers in the wood is simply horseshit as per usual. A false sense of destiny. He turns around, walking a couple steps further back the way he came before an undeniable urge to look back consumes him.

The girl in the woods will be with you always.

And there she is, Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a shining beacon of hope in the dull wet gloom of the towering forest.

Destiny has prevailed.

Your boots shift from right to left as you stand idly in the morning air, your thoughts swimming around in your head of what could be taking Geralt so damn long, even if it's only realistically been about three minutes. Your new friends from behind you have instead left you to yourself and decided to tend to their horses, much to your relief.

Hugging yourself closer, you shiver, though you're not cold. A kind of magic of sorts seems to catch you in the misty air, a feeling you haven't felt since that night at Pavetta's banquet pulls around you like leaves on the wind.

How odd it feels, yet this seems right.

Two heartbeats reach your heightened ears, one so slow. But the other, beats normally like that of a child's.

You take a step back, steadying yourself as you wait for who you're expecting to inevitably appear. Shoes move across earth and leaves, signaling their close arrival. Your nerves die as two shadows emerge from the bushes and into the sunlight, the two of them are talking, unaware of your presence in the yard.

The child suddenly looks, her enchanted blue green irises falling onto you as she quickly comes to a halt, her eyes full of wonder and nervous apprehension. Geralt's brows furrow as he stops as well, his face turning to find the source of the girls fear.

His golden eyes spot you in an instant, he finds you staring curiously at the small blonde girl, the tiniest of smiles gracing your lips as you fiddle with your hands. You can't help but feel ridiculous for how you've been feeling about meeting this Child Surprise after so long, she is just a girl, a survivor of the unspeakable. Though you may not be the best with children in general, you feel no ill will against this one, all those previous feelings of loathing and judgement are gone to the wind.

Geralt's eyes are kind as he gently rests a comforting hand over her thin shoulder, she looks to him now then back to you as he speaks, "This is Y/N of Alkatraz, the dhampir princess of the High Northern Kingdom. My uh, lover?" He says cautiously, a bit unsure of what to truly call you before he thankfully finds his words, "Well...uh, my immortal companion, and someone who I love very deeply."

Oh, Geralt you adorable idiot.

Ciri's brows furrow in thought for a moment as she finds her courage, "My grandmother told me of that kingdom, she said it is ruled by vampires. Are you one?" She wonders, her voice a small nervous whisper.

The corners of your eyes crinkle in amusement as you smile, shaking your head, "No my dear princess, I am of that blood and character, but a dhampir is what I am as Geralt said. It's someone who is half vampire and half human." You assure the small girl, "No need to fear me, I promise you princess that I would never harm you in any way, you have my word."

A small grin tugs at the corners of her lips before her eyes fall downcast, "That's very kind, most people I've met so far out here have tried to kill me." She hands you the flash of a smile, "Glad to know not everyone is like them." She reveals freely to you with her small voice, so this is truly the Child Surprise.

The princess of Cintra.

"With us, you will not have to fear the damned talons of Nilfgaard Princess Cirilla...I will protect you with my life now."

Her brows furrow in thought at your truthful words, "You know of me? But how?"

You smile kindly, your scarlet irises flashing over to Geralt for a brief moment, "I have traveled with this handsome Witcher for almost fifty years, I know everything he knows. Even who you are." You take a couple steps forward, kneeling down to face her sad eyes, "And I am truly sorry for your loss, no child deserves the pain and fear you have endured since Cintra's fall. No less the horrors you have witnessed since your escape, these lands are undoubtedly deadly."

"Thank you, Y/N." She looks from you to Geralt, "I'm glad to have found you both then." You smile, standing up fully to lace your arm with Geralt's.

"Now, I think these kind people here may have breakfast waiting for us and some ale if I'm lucky, so my small friend Ciri, would you join us for a decently peaceful morning?" Ciri gifts your ears with a small giggle as Geralt hums in amusement. Proud that you're taking so well to the newest addition to your group of two.

You turn around just as the curly haired woman waves, "Would you all mind joining us for breakfast?" She calls out as a satisfied grin breaks out upon your face, "Of course we would be delighted!" You shout back, probably with too much excitement but you're trying to look as non threatening as possible. Also you are admittedly very hungry.

The three of you begin walking toward the farmhouse, Ciri follows the woman and her husband inside as Geralt stops near the entrance, you turn a raised brow to him, "What is it now? You planning on finding another magical orphan in the woods again?"

He looks down at the muddy ground before finding your lingering gaze once again, "No, just trying to figure out what to do next." Grumbles your Witcher in that lovable gravely voice of his.

You gently squeeze his hand as a smirk plays at your lips, "How bout we think of breakfast first? Then we can set our sights on paying our friends at Kaer Morhen a little visit. Bet they'd love that." You add sarcastically, wiggling your brows.

Your Witcher finally gives you a small smile, "Oh, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you again." He jests.

Lightly smacking his arm you take a step into the doorway, turning back to look at him, "What? Am I not nice and lovable? Can't believe you'd even say that."

"Only when you want to be." Mutters Geralt before gently kissing the side of your head while walking past you, "Now lets get some ale."

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #princess cirilla #roach the horse

[a-tired-narwhal]

Tell me more about your feelings about the details of Caleb's backstory!

Okay listen anon. LISTEN. This is going to be LONG. Did I immediately rewatch/go back through the entire wrap up to take notes? YES I DID. Anon I'm sorry this is so late, I didn't see your ask until after the stream. I hope this finds you (*＾3＾)/～♡

----

Caleb fucking Widogast. Liam O'Brien always creates/portrays characters that CAPTURE ME. And it is purely the undertow of SUFFERING that I crave.

As a survivor of an abusive childhood, specifically with manipulation, neglect, and physical trauma, and having a controlling abuser in a position of power over you - I was surprised and delighted by Liam's playing of Caleb, and I'm sure that I'm probably not the only one, but Caleb's backstory just had me nodding along. Was not surprised at all by what was revealed about the blumentrio's relationship being trauma-bonding and probably why I'll never be an avid shipper of them. Nothing about Caleb's backstory left me gasping - because it's a relatively common abuse survivor story, except it's in the world of dungeons and dragons with high fantasy and magic and more common place murdering than today in places where most Critters presumably live.

Let's break it down.

Caleb was born as Bren to a less than well off family, who wanted their child to have a better life than them. Bren is a gifted child, and this will immediately put a bullseye's target on a child's back, make no mistake, for abusive persons. Now, I don't know if it's a pretty obvious that parents would trust in a teaching figure to take their child for that child's betterment, because I don't have parents who wish for my betterment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, but I like to think that Bren's parents handed him off hoping for his brightest future.

Trent is basically the textbook example of a Cult Leader. Beyond the experimentation he did on his students; everything he put the Blumentrio through is how you beat down and brainwash people, especially children/adolescents. Textbook. TEXTBOOK. It was the dnd equivalent of the Hilter Youth. Now my personal experience featured the tool of isolation, so I didn't have two childhood friends to pour myself into and have threesome's with, but that's actually smart of Ickythong, because when you're left alone with your whirling brain for too long, and there's no one to hold over your head - we start thinking those rebellious thoughts, and at some point we decide we have nothing to lose, and we will do ANYTHING to shake that control. No, he left them in that abandoned tower together so they would be forced to bond with each other, as well as allowing them not to die of exposure alone.

Trauma-bonding CAN be a manipulation and used against you. Now. We have three adolescents trying not to freeze to death by being as close as physically possible. For those that don't know; sharing body heat works best skin to skin - ya get naked and THEN you wrap up together to stay insulated. Awkward groping is going to happen, and it's more than likely accidental. But when you add raging hormones to the mix, yo it's not going to stay accidental for very long (that in no way indicates non consent, it can be either way), and the feelings can catch hard when you're young and physical and EVERY HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP YOU HAD HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM YOU, IF YOU EVEN EVER HAD ONE. (I do not know Eadwulf or Astrid's home lives so your guess is as good as mine. We should probably ask Liam)

So you've got horny teenagers, with above average intelligence, being systematically abused... Bam. Trauma-bonded Blumentrio.

BUT HERE'S THE THING. Trauma-bonding can only get you so far. And they are children, actively being raised to NOT HAVE THEIR OWN THOUGHTS AND IDENTITIES. The relationship they built, the romantic and sexual, are based off of a shared hostile environment and survival needs. And when those circumstances are no longer there, the relationship tends to fall apart.

I love that Matt talked about Astrid for a bit, sad we didn't get more on Eadwulf - but Matt didn't really spend a lot of time roleplaying Wulf compared to Astrid, so he'd have more insight into her. I also find it interesting that the Blumentrio took 3 very different, but again SO COMMON, paths in dealing with their abuse. But that's a different rant.

Focus with me now on what Matt said about Astrid. She was actively seeking power throughout the campaign, looking always to climb that ladder to the top, for her own purposes which were not stated, and was willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone, to get that power. Was it a burden to her? Yeah I think so. Did it weigh on her? Again I personally think it did. But she was goal-oriented and she wasn't going to let anything stop her, not even herself, and she hated Trent. Matt implies that all three of the Blumentrio did/do. Astrid, Wulf, and Caleb were wildly different people - I don't think they would have stayed together even if Bren had stayed Bren instead of becoming Caleb.

I know A LOT of people were miffed over how Liam and Matt showed Caleb's and Essek's love for each other; and I am SO glad that Liam touched on this; Essek reminded Caleb too much of Astrid and Eadwulf. Now I know we love to joke that that Redhead Dirt Wizard has a Type (smart, ambitious, vaguely amoral), and believe me I LOVE THE JOKE, but Caleb pumping to brakes on Hot Boi makes THE MOST LOGICAL SENSE AND I WAS SO DELIGHTED WHEN LIAM PLAYED IT THAT WAY. Caleb was still trying to heal himself; WHY THE HELL WOULD HE JUMP INTO A MESS CALLED ESSEK? That's some mf UNHEALTHY, TOXIC romance trope ya got there. People fix themselves, not each other. THAT'S WHY CANON SHADOWGAST IS SO GOOD. THEY ARE WORKING TO IMPROVE THEMSELVES FIRST. THAT'S SO HOT.

Ahem.

So the Blumentrio hangout in Astrid's room to sex and study, in threes and twos (I have weird polyam questions, Liam). Now, I'm foggy on the exact timeframe that was together at Academy > kill your parents > Bren is chucked into the Sanitarium; but it's clear that after the murdering of parents, Bren is tagged as the "weakest link" - maybe he broke because he actually loved his family/had a loving family, maybe the manipulation spell from Ickythong didn't sit on him as well as Astrid and Wulf, maybe boi wasn't made for killing (a lie, the boi is a total killer, you have to be in most dnd campaigns), who knows. But he broke, and Astrid and Wulf handed him over - it would be dangerous for them if they tried too hard to protect him.

Because in that environment, in those circumstances, in that set up; you do what you have to, to survive. You hurt people you love, you hurt people you don't know, you even hurt yourself if it means improving your own odds. It's instinct. It's not your fault. You are doing the best you can with what you have available.

I don't hate Astrid and Eadwulf; I just have more emotional attachment and investment in Caleb, and prefer the color purple on him.

Which is actually a great segue into THE WOMAN AT THE SANITARIUM WHO FREED HIS MIND; Matt Mercer you beautiful man, thank you for giving us a Moonweaver connection, my lil widomauk heart was sent aflutter! So, here's the thing. Places like that, sanitariums, psych wards, etc - if you are not certifiably insane before you go in, you will be eventually. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is not a fucking joke. But the thought of some forgotten Moonweaver Cleric recognizing Bren's torment and just, poof, dissolving that spell? *Chef's kiss* glorious, wonderful, everything I needed.

Anon, I don't know if this is what you wanted or expected - but here it is, my sincerest apologies 🐳

#critical role #cr spoilers #caleb widogast #cr liveblog #campaign wrap up #Narwhal talks cr #child abuse #tw abuse #tw cult #tw self harm #abuse survivor #apologies to all the blumentrio fans #shadowgast

[hazydaaze]

An analysis of the Bold Type that I need to get off my chest (it'll be worth it, I promise)

I studied English literature at university, and it has always been instinctive for me to analyse characters, storylines, bigger pictures and under the surface tensions in film & tv. Discussing emotions, motivations and themes with my gf and my pals late at night is one of my favourite pastimes ever and I love everything to do with filmography and art ahhhh. (I wrote my dissertation on David Bowie & The Artistry of Sexuality, ya feel me?)

The Bold Type isn't filmography at all, but I think Jane Sloan and Jacqueline Carlyle hit different for me, being a queer woman in my 20s and a full-time writer. I can't really explain why. I guess there are a lot of queer female characters in film & tv that don't really feel inherently queer, and even as two identifying straight women Jane and Jacqueline felt queer to me. Their connection and understanding of each other was authentic and quite complex. I think they had potential to be something that we'd never seen before in mainstream media, because of their age difference and life experiences. I thought that was so compelling and so important to talk about and to give a recognised space to.

There is one thing that struck me most about them and it's insane to me that I haven't seen a lot of analysis on it, so it's the point of this post.

To my knowledge the show or actors haven't delved too deeply into it either, and given what went down I don't understand why people AREN'T talking about it. I wanted to bring it up. Btw, this post contains spoilers.

***Sexual abuse trigger warning***

In season 1, we learn that Jacqueline is the victim of rape, and the only person she has told about it is her husband, Ian. Given that she mentions that they've been married for around 19 years and the assault happened before they met, we can assume Jacqueline has been carrying the weight of what happened to her for over two decades. During all that time she didn't talk about it with anyone else, not a single other person.

And then Tiny Jane comes along. Jane Sloan, the big swing writer who just wants to write meaningful stories that help other women and girls that need it, like she did growing up. She fucks up a lot on the way and slowly begins discarding her judgemental opinions as she grows. But when she is at her best she has genuine compassion and empathy for people, and despite her reservations, Jacqueline gives her the opportunity to write about the story of a rape survivor and performance artist. She isn't aware, at the time, what that means for her own trauma or her own acceptance of it. But she does it anyway, because she sees something in Jane and she has seen it there from the beginning.

Jane starts to write and, as we know, in the most beautiful and compelling moment at the season 1 finale, Jacqueline is confronted with what happened to her. She stands in Central Park holding these weights, and you can see the crushing pain in her eyes as the realisation descends down on her. She shares a look with Jane, and a moment of understanding passes between them at what this means.

Despite all this, she lets Jane capture her trauma. She lets her publish her untold experience of her rape from two decades gone. She lets millions of people see her story in writing, with Jane Sloan's name printed above it. She re-lives and faces up to the harsh reality of that pain and that truth, through Jane.

Can you even imagine the trust you must have in someone to do that? The sheer love that took, for Jacqueline to give Jane her voice and her truth, with all its painful and hard repercussions?

This storyline is the boldest part of the Bold Type. It's the most honest and the most authentic. It captures the raw emotion of Jacqueline, and of Jane, and the two characters really see each other for who they are. It's one of the reasons why their relationship is so central to the other's storyline.

We don't ever see Jane truly unpick in detail what Jacqueline did for her. It spoke so many volumes and ... well, isn't that what love is?

It's this storyline that sets the tone for their relationship over the course of the show. Jacqueline sacrifices herself for Jane again and again. She publishes the article about the lack of accessible healthcare at Safford and gets fired for doing so, purely so Jane can afford to freeze her eggs. Jacqueline says there were a lot of other things that contributed to it, but Jane knows her article was the final straw, the point of no return.

Over a decade of pouring everything she could give into Scarlet Magazine and it’s readers, only to be gone in a second. All for Jane.

And again, in season 4, in the few real moments we are given between them, one of their final interactions is Jacqueline giving Jane the go-ahead to explore a story of potential abuse at States & Nations, a company Ian is associated with. Ian literally asks Jacqueline to stop pursuing the story, due to the sexual relationship he had with the source when he and Jacqueline were separated. When Jane challenges Jacqueline over her reasoning for pulling the story, she asks her to give the story a chance. Jacqueline lets her, knowing full well that it could prove irreparably damaging to her marriage and her family, and she does it anyway.

Jacqueline chooses the truth, over her career and over her marriage. She chooses Jane. As humans, there isn't much more you can give to someone else. I’m wracking my brains trying to think of a way Jacqueline could portray her love for Jane more, and I’m all out of ideas.

I want to reiterate again how insane it is to me that none of this is really acknowledged, or at least not nearly as much as it should be amongst the show, its creators and its viewers, Jacqueline continually falls on her sword for Jane (weird analogy, but she does) and it is repeatedly glossed over. Their relationship is quickly dismissed as a "mother Jane never had" or a simple "boss/employee" power dynamic, and it seems so hollow, unjust and sorry - so unbelievably boring - in contrast to the experiences they have shared together and the sacrifices they have made.

I understand Jacqueline’s character was based on Cosmopolitan Editor in Chief, Joanna Coles, and therefore it makes sense that this queerness to her relationship with Jane was not intended. However, it’s there. Everything I mentioned in the post happened on the show in canon.

In 2021, the possibility that these two women could have romantic or sexual feelings towards each other shouldn't be a stretch. If either of these women were male characters with this much intertwined investment, high stakes and sacrifice, there would be no doubt they would be endgame. They would run away, have the hottest sex, all the while their reputations would be forever ruined in the name of love. And we, as viewers, would celebrate it without question - we would never dismiss it.

The concept of what they are, and what they can be as two women should be able to live and thrive. It should be given a beating heart. In the very least, the reality of it should be on the table and up for debate. But for many viewers, and the show’s creators, it just isn’t. And here lies the problem.

Jane and Jacqueline have such a beautiful dynamic, it is so deep and soul-wrenching. How can we ever limit what these two women are and what they would do for each other?

I really hope that one day we can see a relationship like theirs given the queer space it deserves. Because it would've been the bold thing (and the right thing) to do.

I'm going to publish a longer and more in-depth article about this on Medium, because as I said, analysing is my favourite pastime and I can't stop doing it. But for now, this is all I can manage.

Edit: Read my published Medium article.

Here's to Jane and Jacqueline and what could've been.

#jacqueline x jane #jane x jacqueline #janequeline #jacqueline carlyle #jane sloan #the bold type #the bold type review #the bold type edit #queer ships #otp

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Worth the Risk

CW: Referenced past domestic violence, memories of trauma, some PTSD references, vaguely referenced noncon, abuse survivor navigating relationship conflict, BBU politics

Follow-up to Akio’s Idea

The sun glances off Kauri’s shoulder, lights his pale skin in gold, turns one wide blue eye to a kind of shimmering precious metal. He sits on the bed, on the soft comforter that he helped Jake pick out when he started staying here, soft as down, as feathers, as the way Jake holds him. His stomach twists with cold nervousness, but he manages, his voice low, even deeper, with time, than when he and Jake first met, to ask, “What did you just say?”

“I said no.” Jake closes the door, Kauri listens to the click, part of him eternally on edge for the sound of a lock. There isn’t one, on this door. Jake bought door knobs without a lock, Kauri watched him install it. He can open this door whenever he wants.

He can leave, if he has to.

If he wants to.

“Yeah, I heard you. I think you should reconsider, Jake. This idea - it’s the best one anyone could have. It’ll be public, too public, not something they can come back at without it being really obvious it’s them. If they do this and Chris disappears… people will notice. If they do this, and we get raided, or the Nakamura kid gets threatened, people - the media, our fucking neighbors, the fucking government - will notice.”

“The government is why you all have to hide in the first place.” Jake groans, leaning back against the door. “The government passed the laws that keep you all hiding, that mean you can’t go to school, get paying jobs. The government made those raids legal in the first place! You can’t be serious, Kauri. You cannot be seriously thinking about going along with this.” He’s sincere, but Kauri bristles, too. 

You can’t be serious, Kor-Bore. Those rocks in your head must be rolling around too fast.

“Well, I-I am. I think it’s a good idea, I think Chris should do it if he wants-”

“I don’t want him involved in this.” Jake’s voice is flat. It’s solid. It brooks no appeal, but Kauri isn’t ready to be ground down under it, no this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers he wrote a poem once, not for a class just for himself, and the words were 

I will say, more weight and take the stones you lay upon me still I will breathe in, out more weight

“Jake, I don’t think it’s your choice.”

Jake looks at him from across the room, tall and imposing, all muscles and bulk. His jaw works while he thinks, and Kauri has kissed that jaw, rubbed his own to redness on the stubble there, has watched it soften and relax at the end of hard days with him, just with him, alone in here with a door he can open any time he wants. “What do you mean?”

“Chris’s life isn’t yours,” Kauri says, pitching his already deep voice lower. “It just isn’t. Neither is mine. We-... Jake, I love you, but… if Chris wants to do this, he’s a grown man. He gets to make that decision, and we-... you… don’t.”

He sees the words hit Jake, and Kauri swallows the apology that he feels bubble up in his throat. He doesn’t have to be sorry, for saying something true. 

Jake’s eyes move away from his, head shaking, a bit of his ash-blond hair falling over his forehead. It’s gotten shaggy, he’s overdue for a haircut. Kauri likes to watch him, sitting in the backyard with a towel over his shoulders, Antoni clipping centimeters with perfect steadiness, running the electric clipper up the back, leaving the remainder soft and perfect for Kauri’s fingers to run through. 

“Kauri-”

“Jake. I’m not with you because you tell us what to do. I’m with you because you don’t.” Kauri’s voice stays low, and it’s not trembling, or faint, or weak. Just… soft, but in a way that still carries across the room. He sits back against the headboard, crossing his arms, and makes himself meet Jake’s gaze.

Blue on blue, always.

“I’m not telling anyone what to do-”

“You literally just said to me, in your own fucking words, Jake Stanton, I said no. Please, explain to me how that’s not telling Chris and I what to do. Yeah? Elaborate, I’m happy to hear it.” 

Jake’s eyes narrow. He bristles, defensively, and Kauri’s heart beats hard, pounding against his breastbone. The old scar on his collarbone, still a twisted bit of skin that feels oddly silky under his fingers, begins to itch, to ache. It’s an old phantom pain, a reminder - don’t fight back. 

But he won’t back down, or lower his eyes. Not this time. 

“I’m not-... Kaur, I’m just saying no to Chris’s, to his friend’s plan, that’s all.” Jake moves towards him, hands out like a supplicant. Kauri swallows against the sense of fingers brushing over his throat, thumbs pressing to his pulse, pushing in. He pretends he can’t feel the push to forgive forget be good. 

He only waits, gives the silence time to tick out between them, and raises one eyebrow in skepticism. He can feel his own pulse flutter, anxiety chilling the tips of his fingers and his toes, flipping his stomach. Jake won’t hurt him, for this. He won’t. 

After the pause draws out, Jake drops onto the bed himself, sitting at the edge facing one of the windows, looking at the pristine cloudless blue over the tops of the neighborhood houses. His elbows rest on his thighs. He looks tired, in a way he hasn’t looked in years. Tired like he used to look, when he ran on coffee and the smallest victories.

He’s as handsome as Kauri remembers from his earliest blurry feverish memories, although his jawline is sharper now. Every year is written on them both, one way or another. Kauri has his own changes, that he can see in the mirror if he doesn’t look for too long, if he pushes past the headaches that still hit every time he sees himself. 

Kauri sees the weight pushing Jake down, the way he feels like he carries them all, long after they’ve more or less learned to stand on their own two feet. He swallows - Jake isn’t his keeper, and never was. He’s meant to be love, the kind that doesn’t lock the doors, the kind that never says you’re so lucky someone will take care of you, you can’t take care of yourself.

“It’s just.” Jake sighs and puts his head in his hands. “Even if it does work for Chris - and who knows if it will - even if it protects him, it could put everyone else in serious danger. My new rescues, you, Antoni, even Nat… everyone.”

“Or,” Kauri offers, voice softening a little, “It could make us all safer by making everyone refuse to look away any longer. Make it harder to make us disappear. You don’t know-”

“That’s just it, Kauri!” Jake turns to look at him, genuinely distraught. Kauri’s fingertips itch to touch, to soothe, to fix. He doesn’t move. “Nobody knows. Nobody has any idea what will happen, no one’s ever done anything like this before!”

Kauri wants to run his fingers through that mussed-up hair, straddle his lap, kiss away his fears. He knows, instinct and training, how to fix unhappiness with his body. Seven years and still, still he knows, deep down.

Instead, Kauri swallows, raises his chin, and sets his jaw. He holds. 

“We… we could be freed, Jake.” His voice is barely above a whisper, insistent. “All of us. All of us who run away, me-... Ant, yeah, but also the new ones, and the older ones still on the streets. We could stop hiding. We could-”

“Get thrown into a van,” Jake says, voice cracking a little. “You could be dragged back by fucking WRU into that fucking place. You could disappear, and I’ll never-” Jake’s eyes glitter a little, red at the edges. “I’ll never see you again. Not you… not Ant, not Chris, not anybody. Kauri, I can’t-... everybody who disappears into WRU, they don’t come back.”

“I came back,” Kauri says, voice soft. “I went back in and I came back out-”

“Because Owen Grant fucking paid them to take you back in!” Kauri doesn’t flinch at the sound of his name, not anymore. He doesn’t shiver, although he still feels the chill down his spine. His arms drop, hands back on the comforter, rubbing over a seam sewn in. The headboard makes his back ache where his shoulder blades press against the carved wood. He’s been tied up before, hands wrapped in ropes, his shoulders smacking back into the headboard with every shift of Owen’s hips, until he bruised, and Owen pressed his hand into the bruise and said, I did that, Kor-Bore. I made you look like this. You’re mine.

“But we can come back out without-... without losing ourselves,” Kauri says, voice starting to shake, now. He can feel the bruises that aren’t there. He can see the focus in Owen’s green eyes, too close, feel sweat that isn’t his dripping onto his skin. He can-

He can’t-

“If they want you to. But they won’t, Kauri. And if you get dragged back, after this long, after… after everything… I can’t fail you like that, Kauri. Not you, not Chris. I can’t fail you all like that.”

“You wouldn’t.” Kauri leans forward, now. When Jake leans towards him, he lays a hand over Jake’s, rubs a thumb over his knuckles. “It’s not your responsibility to decide if we speak out. It wouldn’t be your failure, either. But if it works… this could change everything for us. Nobody ever-... nobody ever wants to stand up for us, Jake, not like this. This could make me safer than I’ve ever been, and Chris, too.”

Jake is silent, looking down at their hands. Then he takes in a deep breath. “I think… I think you’ve seen good people for so long,” He says, heavily, words coming out only with effort, “that you’ve forgotten that most people are fucking awful.”

“I haven’t-”

“We’ve been… we’ve been really fortunate, Kauri...”

So fucking lucky.

“... and I can’t risk losing my rescues, just so Chris’s friend can make a fucking point.”

“That Nakamura kid had the idea, yeah, but… Chris wants to do this. He wants to, um, to take Tristan back from this, from these people who stole him.” Kauri curves his fingers into Jake’s palm, squeezes his hand. “He wants to do this for himself, sure, but also for everyone else like him. The, the underagers-”

Jake winces at the reminder and Kauri, always keyed in to the potential negative emotions of anyone around him, can see the old anger simmering under the surface. He wasn’t there when Chris came to stay, but he heard the fury in Jake’s voice when he described it, knows that Chris was Jake’s little brother long before the papers were ever signed to make it official.

“Right,” Jake mumbles.

He’s not mad at me. He’s not mad at me. He’s not mad at me. He’s not.

“He wants to make sure it won’t happen to other ones like him,” Kauri says, keeping soft, telling himself he’s not trying to sound sweet, or good. “Even if we can’t stop it, if all we do is make them stop taking kids-”

“Kaur, they’ll just get quieter about it. They won’t stop, they’ll just stop leaving tracks, stop making it so we can find them. Don’t you get that?” 

Jesus, Kauri, don’t you get it?

Kauri’s breath catches. He has to force the exhale, it comes only with effort, through a throat closing. His scar itches even more. “Jake, you’re-... you’re n-not seeing that it doesn’t have to be the worst-case scenario-

“I can see just fine.” Jake pulls his hand away, rubbing at his face, his temples. Kauri sits there with his own hand still out, his fingers curved around nothing but air. “It’s you guys who just can’t see how this is really going to end. You, and Akio, and Chris, you’re all fucking convinced it’s going to solve itself, that we’ll, what? Tell everyone what happened and then you’ll get a standing fucking ovation and the credits roll, world changed, easy as that?”

“Jake, we-... no one is saying this is going to be easy, or-”

“You all are. You’re all saying that!” Jake’s voice is rising, not mad at me he’s not mad at me he’s not mad at me he’s not, and Kauri leans away. His scar burns, pain singing through it like the wires were never removed. He did it himself, he held the bloody things in his hand and stared at them before he passed out on a trashbag on some shitty motel floor, he did it himself and they’re gone but they hurt, anyway.

“You’re acting like one big show will fix it, and you know what it does? It starts it. It starts a whole new set of problems - not even for me, Kaur, for everyone else who runs a safehouse! You’re putting every fucking rescue in serious fucking danger, and you say it’s not my responsibiliy, but you are all my responsibility!”

“We’re adults!” Kauri snaps the words before he can think enough not to. “We’re not kids, Jake, and we’re all-... we’ve all been working for years to be people, and we are. If we want to take the risk-”

“For yourselves, sure, go ahead, fine. Go flying off the fucking cliff and I’ll be there to pick your bodies out of the fucking rubble after.” Jake stands again, pacing, stomping along the floor. Kauri wonders if they can hear him, downstairs. He briefly blocks the light coming in through the window, the room darkens slightly. Kauri’s breath comes faster. “But you can’t put everyone else at risk. You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop us, either.” Jake turns to look at him, and Kauri’s voice nearly falters, dies in his throat. But he pushes, he forces himself to keep speaking. His hand moves unconsciously to scratch at his scar through his shirt, the itch is driving him crazy. “We’re already all at risk, Jake. They pick us up on the street sometimes, if someone calls in a tip. They send vans to safehouses already - you got your ass kicked when they tried to come for Chris-”

“I protected him, then! I can’t protect him if he stands around waving a sign that says I’m a pet, WRU come get me!”

“Maybe Chris decides if he needs protecting, now.” Kauri can hear his own voice dipping into a plea, and he scratches harder, digging his nails into the cotton fabric of his shirt until the skin underneath is burning hot with the ache.

The little circles get hot when Owen sets them off, just a fraction of a second’s warning before the pain that follows on its heels.

“Maybe-... maybe I decide if I need protecting, too. I wish you would understand-”

“I wish you would understand, Kaur! But it feels like you just… don’t, or can’t. Like, it doesn’t matter what I fucking say, it’s just not sinking in, is it?”

There’s a silence, in the room, then.

You’re so fucking stupid.

“Jake-”

“I’m not the bad guy here,” Jake says, almost desperately. He’s not looking at Kauri - he doesn’t see the wrinkle between his eyes as his eyebrows come together, doesn’t see the look on his face, doesn’t see that Kauri’s eyes glitter now, too. “I mean, I’m not trying to be, I just-”

Don’t look at me like that, baby, I’m not the bad guy here. You’re the one who thought you could fucking cook. God, you’re lucky someone loves you.

“... want to keep everyone safe, and staying under the radar is the only thing that’s ever worked. You know, groups have tried going public before, and they get raided, they get hurt. All I’m trying to do is look out for you and Chris, take care of you-”

I’m taking care of you, Kor-Bore. Jesus, it’s not like you could take care of yourself.

“-and everyone else. I love you, Kauri, so much, I want you in my life more than anything-”

I love you, baby. Who else would want you?

“... Chris, too, and I’ve worked so hard to keep all of you safe, and I’m so scared to lose you, I just want you to get that. I can’t see this ending any way but badly, and I’m s-so scared. And you’re so busy staring into the sun trying to figure out how to fly there, and nobody’ll fucking listen to me saying your wings are made of fucking wax. It’s like talking to fucking walls.”

Talking to you is like talking to a gorgeous fucking brick wall, isn’t it?

There’s a bright flash of pain as Kauri breaks skin over his scars. He gasps, a little, for half a second he’s waiting for his muscles to lock, nerves to feel like fire right down to his fingertips, for it all to go horribly, painfully, agonizingly wrong. The shock doesn’t come, but instead Kauri feels new heat inside him. 

I know I asked for you to be stupid, but Jesus Christ, Kor-Bore, this is something else.

“I’m not stupid,” He whispers.

Jake blinks and looks over at him, then. Kauri meets his eyes, and sees Jake’s expression shift, and change, in a way that feels like worry, the prelude to an apology. For half a second, Kauri wants to wait, to hear it, to forgive him. 

But Owen apologized, too, over and over, and then he called Kauri stupid again anyway, or hurt him, over and over, until he begged for it to stop, until he pleaded, until he was quiet and soft and sweet and forgot how to be anything else. 

Kauri had to fight, for his sharp edges. 

He won’t let anyone take them away again.

“Shit,” Jake whispers. “Kauri, I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up.” Jake’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m not stupid, Jakob Stanton. I’m not. It doesn’t matter how many ways you or anyone else says it, you can’t make me think I’m stupid anymore!”

“I wasn’t-”

“I said stop talking!” Kauri pushes off the bed now, stalking across the room. He aches, all his muscles remember the aftermath of fighting back, but he ignores the pains he knows are being fed by his memories and not by anything real. “Just… just stop, and listen to me, Jake. Okay. Can you just. Can you just listen?”

Jake swallows, slowly sitting back down on the bed, and nods, hands where Kauri can see them, flat on the bedspread. “Yeah. You, uh. Go on.”

“Thank you for the fucking permission slip, Mr. Stanton. Go fuck yourself, I don’t need you to tell me when I can and can’t talk.” Kauri’s voice drips anger, it’s bathed in it, years and years and years of anger built inside him finally breaking through the cracks in his sweetness. “I’m less than two years younger than you, more or less, so stop treating me like I’m a fucking infant. Which, by the way, neither is Chris.”

Jake doesn’t try to speak this time.

Good.

“I’ve been on the run for seven years. I’m fucking tired. Antoni’s been gone for a decade. Chris has been out for, what, five years? Six? And we’re all still under the radar. None of us have our original names, our original lives. We can’t go home, because we don’t have one anymore! If this idea works, then there are hundreds - maybe thousands of us, Jesus fuck - who could go home again! Who could put our faces on papers and see if anyone knows who we are! We-we could ask for blood tests, we could do the DNA matches they do when they find our bodies, we could-... we could remind everyone who walks past us begging for change that we were goddamn people, and we can be people again!”

Jake swallows. Kauri watches his throat bob with the movement. His collarbone is on fire, but it’s only feeding the hotter flame inside him, the way it feels to just say what he thinks and not have anyone talk over or around it.

Jake watches him.

Jake listens.

“Chris has something we almost never get back. He has his name. He has Tristan Higgs and even more than that, Tristan Higgs had friends. Tristan Higgs had a family, and friends, and this whole life and-... and he found it again.”

“I would-... you know I’d help you find your family in a heartbeat-”

“Jake, that’s not my point. This isn’t about me, or my life, or any of it. I’m just trying to say… Chris wants to do this. He’s wanting to be so fucking brave, braver than I am, than a-any of us here are going to be, probably. He’s going to look WRU in the eyes and tell them Tristan Higgs isn’t forgotten. If you tell him not to, he w-won’t, but… but I think you should tell him to do what he thinks is right, instead. And prepare for it to not be the thing you want him to do.”

Jake nods, just barely. Then, he offers, “Kauri, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“I know. But you did. You said I’m stupid not to agree with you, and that’s not true.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Jake. Just listen to me.”

“Right.”

There’s power in this moment, in telling someone to listen to him, to stop, and having them just… do it. In his mind, Kauri shoves Owen up against a wall, throws him off the fucking balcony, drowns him in the bathtub, smothers him with a pillow locks him in the fucking box from WRU that he locked Kauri in for sensory deprivation pulls the giant TV over on top of him burns the fucking condo to the ground-

-cuts the wires out of himself, piece by piece, screaming with the pain even as his fingers twist into the pieces and pull them out, blacks out and wakes up and keeps going, again and again, until the only thing left is the blood-

Kauri’s chin lifts, and he holds out his hands for Jake to take, but it’s not weakness. He’s not appeasing the danger in the room, he is the danger. 

He can be dangerous.

He can own himself so thoroughly that no one can take him away from himself, not ever again.

“You think I’m naive,” He says, softly. “Because we all start that way. You think that I don’t know what could happen to us after this. But I’m telling you… I know I could disappear. I could know that we could get hurt. I know how bad it can be. I know what it’s like, going back in there.” 

Jake pulls his hands close, kisses the backs of them, slowly leans his forehead to touch there against Kauri’s knuckles. “I’m so scared to lose you,” He whispers. “All of you.”

“I know,” Kauri says, and his voice gentles, now. “I know you are. But… Jake, what I’m saying is… we’ve all already lost everything there was to lose. We lost our families, if we had any. We lost our memories. We lost our names. Chris, and I…”

He pulls his hands free, moves closer, lets Jake lean forward to rest against his stomach, his fingers running through his short blond hair. Kauri’s eyes light on a framed photo, one Jake has carried with him for years.

Jake with Chris at the beach, Kauri standing off to the side shading his eyes. All of them smiling.

“We know what it means to be lost. And we want to tell WRU that no matter what they do, the whole world is going to see what happens to kids like Chris in the system, and I-... I want you to trust me, Jake. Just for this. Trust me that I’ve thought through every single outcome, even the worst ones, and… I think the risk is worth it.”

Jake is quiet, his breathing warm on Kauri’s stomach, the hair at his nape soft under Kauri’s fingertips.

“I’m just scared,” Jake whispers.

Kauri nods, even though Jake can’t see it. Then he says, softly, “I’m not.”

Another pause. “Okay. I love you, Kaur. I-I’m scared shitless, but... I trust you. I need your help to plan for what we’re going to do to make sure my people aren’t here when it happens. I-I can’t-... I’ll help you, but… but I need your help, too.”

Kauri smiles. He tries not to feel triumph. He does, a little.

Mostly he feels like he could walk out the door right now and Jake wouldn’t stop him - but he doesn’t have to. He knows he can.

He doesn’t want to.

“I love you, too, Jake. Let me talk to Keira. I think-... I think I know what we can do to make sure if WRU tries to come for the safehouses, they won’t find a single goddamn one of us at home.”

 ---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary @downriver914 @vickytokio ​

#whump #speak out arc #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #erase to control #jake the shelter guy #referenced past noncon #referenced past pet whump #very brief vague reference to ableist torture #pet whump #trauma recovery #ptsd tw #abuse survivor tw

[doberbutts]

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was beaten by his father so savagely that he went deaf, while his father’s girlfriend watched and did nothing?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was abandoned and locked inside an empty apartment until the 1950s equivalent of CPS was tipped off he was there and took him to save him from starvation, because dear old grandpa and his girlfriend at the time didn’t want a defective child once they figured out they’d permanently fucked him up?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he bounced from foster home to foster home until he was held down and raped by one of his foster brothers, tried to tell his foster mother, and she just called him a faggot and left it at that?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was finally reunited with his mother and had to scrape together a living by eating stale bread and running errands for what turned out to be local gangs, because she was too poor to feed another mouth?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he watched a black man shot by police bleed out in the street?

Where was my father’s male privilege when teachers who should have caught his deafness instead made him believe he was failing his classes because he was stupid because that’s just how black people are?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he got the tar kicked out of him by his white classmates who felt emboldened by their female teacher’s anti-black racism?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he brought the subject of racism up with the school board after a cross was lit on fire on his desk, and he was dismissed by both male and female staff?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he struggled to find a job after completing college, completing a master’s degree, which he paid for exclusively with scholarships earned from his competitive essay writing, because no one wanted to hire a disabled black man?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was accused of assault by a white female student who could not keep her story straight and eventually admitted she had made it up because she wanted to put her black principal back in his place?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he was violently cuffed and illegally searched while I sat in the carseat and he was forced to comfort me through the window?

Where was my father’s male privilege when his wife, my mother, was immediately disowned by her entire family for associating herself with him? When she was forced to make a choice between a future with him, or her family? When he sees this echo with his children, and my sister’s children have still never met my brother-in-law’s family despite more than 10 years of marriage?

Where was my father’s male privilege when he came to pick us up from school and my school refused to let him in until the cops verified he was exactly who he said he was? Despite his name matching his ID, the lanyard he wore stating he was a principal at a nearby school, and the name on the school registry as being one of my parents? Despite me being called into the office to peek through the blinds at him and verifying that yes, this was my father?

Where was my father’s male privilege as neighbors who protested living near a black man repeatedly called the police on him as he pulled into the driveway of the house he’s lived in since I was born, let himself in with his own key, with ID to match the address and having known these neighbors by first name? To the point my white-passing mother had to diffuse the situation?

My father is straight and cis. My father is black and disabled. My father is a survivor. My father is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about him, but he is not trash. He has not skated through life as though it’s easy. His life was significantly harder than my mother’s, and her life wasn’t easy either. He has been hurt by men. He has been hurt by women. Some of the instances he has been hurt, my mother was directly sheltered from because she is a woman.

Her father was also an angry drunk, but deliberately did not take his anger out on his daughters, preferring to beat his son bloody instead. Mom has the trauma of watching her father beat the piss out of her brother and having to patch him back up after, but never of having been beaten herself.

Mom found herself in compromising and dangerous positions at times, but was protected from physical harm by her brother and the other men around her who saw it as their duty to protect the girls from that sort of thing. Literally the only good thing about rural purity culture.

Mom has a history of speaking out against racism and discrimination when she sees it, but has never needed to throw a punch in her life, because there was always a man around to protect her from the resulting fight. The men might not have agreed with her views on race but they were connected to her and thus duty/honor bound to protect her if someone tried to jump her because she wouldn’t let them beat up the black kid or told them to stop bothering the asian kid.

Mom never once had to stop and consider that it would be kinder to her partner to break things off.

Mom has never been falsely accused of assault because it’s just assumed that women don’t do that.

Mom has never been accused of trying to kidnap us because it’s believable that a white woman has mixed race kids that are darker than her but inconceivable that a black man has mixed race kids that are lighter than him.

Mom has never had the police called on her for entering her own house in their very white neighborhood.

Mom has only been pulled over once in her life, and the cop was far more interested in what my sisters and I were doing in her car than anything she might have potentially done.

My mother is straight and cis. She is also a white-passing POC and disabled. My mother is a survivor. My mother is a lot of things, and I have a lot of complicated feelings about her, but even she admits that her life was easier than my dad’s.

Cis, straight men suffer. White men suffer. My uncle is also a white-passing POC and a survivor. Do you know how much pent up anger he has? Still has, even though my grandfather changed and got better and apologized and owned up to his wrongs? Even though my grandfather’s been dead for years now? My uncle is sullen and prefers a bottle to take away his pain, pain he’s not been able to process, not been allowed to process, and he’s been that way since he was a child, which is not surprising considering what I’ve been directly told the beatings entailed... and things are always worse than what you’re told when it comes to that.

And all of that anger and resentment and rage and pain builds and builds until one of his sisters pokes him a little too hard about it and then he roars at them and storms off and he knows it’s wrong to take it out on them and he knows it’s not fair and that they only mean well but it hurts and he knows no other outlet besides lashing out because that was the only thing he was ever taught. Men get drunk and then get angry and then get violent. So he stops himself at yelling because he knows he can’t hit in anger, and he leaves and bangs doors behind him and stomps off until he calms down.

And you can say “dude needs therapy” and you know... you’re not wrong. But why would he ever seek it? When he sought help as a child he was told to be a man and suck it up and harden and grow some balls. His mother didn’t intervene to help him. You know, I know, he knows it’s because she was afraid her husband would turn on her. But it still hurts to know your own mother let your own father do that to you. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again. The most help he ever got was some first aid from his sisters when my grandfather decided he was done being angry. His teachers just knew him as an angry, sullen boy who frequently got into fistfights with other angry, sullen boys and chalked new bruises up to that. 

If you grow up like this, betrayed by everyone who is supposed to help you, then why would you ever consider seeking outside help as an adult?

And if your reaction is- see? He is a violent man! He is part of the problem! He could seek help and won’t because he is a stubborn man that wants to make his problems into women’s problems by relying on his sisters!

Then you fail to understand that my uncle is the way he is because of unprocessed, repeated trauma and betrayal that he was actively discouraged from seeking help to free himself of the cycle and start to heal. And his sisters were the only people in his life that did not harm him in that way, so at this point his sisters and his wife are the only people he trusts when triggers get poked and the pot boils over.

He does need therapy. He’s not likely to ever seek it out. And it’s because he was born a boy that this happened to him, and it’s because he was born a boy that no one was willing to help when he needed it most.

These men are not part of the queer community. They still were made vulnerable, and needed help, and did not get any, because of that same logic that drives these feelings about men not needing to be helped or included or assisted today. It’s not progressive just because the logic is coming from the queer community this time instead of conservative christians.

#tbh the majority of my mom's family is functionally white #they are a large part Native but that only comes up when it's convenient #mostly they're Irish and lean real hard into the being white thing #and tbh if you called one of them a POC to their face they'd probably punch you #even though by definition they ARE

[bondsmagii]

I’m rereading Vicious and after knowing everything about Vengeful everything that Eli did on vicious makes so much sense.

The first time I read Vicuous I always wondered what exactly went through Eli’s head, what was he thinking? When he looked for Victor when Victor was about to replicate his experiment? Was Eli concerned about Victor or was Eli was acting for selfish reasons? What was he thinking and feeling after he got his powers? What was he thinking when Victor attacked him and why was he so quick to think Victor was a devil in disguise? What was his last thought when he was about to become an Eo and how does it relate to healing? What was his thought process when he was trying to give up his life to god and when he decided that killing EOS was the “right” thing to do?

And after reading Vengeful everything becomes so much clearer, his last thought was probably about how he wanted to be “healed and saved” he internalized so some much religious trauma that it affected the way he acted and his thogught porcess, he witnessed his mother suicide on a bathtub and that’s probably why he chose that method both times before and after becoming an EO, his father used to beat him as a kid because he supposedly “had the devil in him” and he does feels like one through his life, doing his best to act as “normal” as possible.

His mother death also explains why he was so worried about Victor and even in the first book Eli talks very fondly of him even referring to him as his best friend and he explains to Serena he thinks Victor died and something sinister replaced him after becoming an EO and this conclusion although rash, it make sense he would try to rationalize and in a way justify the awful things that Victor did after turning into an EO.

And even in vengeful he started imagining Victor to kept him company when he was going through hell, he admits to himself that Victor was the only person who ever truly “saw” him and understood him, pretty much confirming that the “rivalry” Victor and Eli had was mostly one-sided and Eli really did loved him and consider him his best friend.

This also explains his weird behavior towards Victor when Vic himself was trying to turn himself into an EO, Eli witnessed his mother death and probably didn’t wanted the same to happen to Victor after Eli himself almost died trying to recreate it.

The first book also explains that he tried to take his life a second time after Victor got arrested begging for God to take away his power if it had been a mistake, he seemed to externalize all of this negative experience and feelings through his purpose of exterminating the EOS because he sincerely believed that was the right thing to do, his faith although horribly used and mishandled seemed to be genuine based on how we was him literally begging to god to take his life back if everything had been a mistake.

Everyone one of his actions seem to be driven by his childhood and religious trauma and it’s incredible sad to me, he wan’t a sociopath or a psychopath he was just very broken and delusional individual.

And his experience with Serena who forced herself into him also didn’t helped the whole “EOS are devils in disguise” perspective , even since I read the first book (when I didn’t knew anything about Eli yet) I was very repulsed by what Serena was doing to him, to the point that even though I greatly disliked Eli at first I kind of hated Serena more for what she was doing to him. I am also a little disappointed in how the fandom barely acknowledges that what Serena did to Eli was incredibly wrong and messed up.

I have already said this, but the fandom seems to treat Eli very unkindly, they brush over all of his story and just label him as a “sociopath” or “psychopath” barely understanding and completely missing the point of why he behaved the way that he did.

I don’t mind if people hate his character, I did so at first, but the way everyone brush over all of his trauma and the way people completely misinterpreted his character and actions don’t set up right with me.

It’s a little surprising how people can praise Serena, Victor and Marcella despite their awful actions while they hate on Eli for the same reason, overall Eli seems to have been the one to receive the shorter end of the stick by the fandom.

honestly I've read this so many times because you're so right and it's such a relief to know that somebody else out there is capable of critical thinking skills lmao. I think the problem with people's response to Eli is that they think his backstory is an excuse, when in actual fact it's an explanation. go figure, kids who grow up in abusive households will turn into adults with a boatload of issues, and some of those issues are more likely than not going to cause harm of their own. it's totally possible to be both a victim and someone who causes harm; yes, Eli thinks he's in the right, but his actions are still wrong. it's possible to understand both of these things and it's possible to still like his character and sympathise with him, while still understanding that damn, he maybe needs to chill on the serial killing.

it wouldn't bother me as much if people didn't think that Victor was absolutely innocent. people seem to revere him, and it's because in the narrative he's set up as Eli's opposite. the whole point of the story is that there's no good men in the game, but because Victor wants to stop Eli, people see him as the good guy and overlook how cruel he was to Eli throughout their entire friendship, and also how cruel he is to the others. (Mitch is probably the only one there of his own free will. Sydney was an injured 12-year-old child when Victor picked her up, and he did so only because she had information that he wanted -- his first thought was to torture it out of her, but when she gave it willingly and kind of hero-worshipped him in the way a neglected child would hero-worship their saviour, he decided she could stay. Dominic is there by force, because he's a disabled man in constant chronic agony that Victor fixes with his EO abilities, and if he does something to displease Victor or leaves him, Victor has threatened to bring the pain back even worse.) people rewrite both Eli and Victor's personalities to fit this, with Eli being cast as this unfeeling psychopath and Victor the person standing up to his evil, and in actual fact Eli is absolutely not a psychopath -- he's a traumatised adult recovering from a highly abusive childhood -- and Victor is not standing up to evil; he's settling a score. a score he kind of started in the first place, by being a jealous asshole towards Eli's thesis, trying to dominate it because his own sucked, seeking glory off the back of Eli's hard work, and then when he succeeded in his goals and became an EO, immediately murdering Eli's girlfriend and torturing Eli because he was jealous Eli's idea was correct. like, Victor Vale is a little bitch, on god. the reason it ended like this was because he was a god-awful friend to Eli, who was literally Victor's only true friend because he was the only person who would put up with him. go figure that the only person who could deal with Victor's behaviour was a grown abused child. nobody who hadn't been indoctrinated into believing that behaviour was acceptable would ever voluntarily deal with Victor.

literally every decision and action Eli takes can be traced back to his trauma, but go figure that nobody on this website can treat trauma with the nuance it deserves. people on this site seem to think that if you're traumatised you're always innocent and vulnerable; if anyone acts outside of this idea, they're written off. I take Eli's treatment very personally because I've seen people quite literally do this to real life people, myself included. because I wasn't a quiet, easy-to-deal-with traumatised person, I got all kinds of shit. it's the exact same with Eli. because he acts badly, because he does bad things, people seek to dehumanise him and set him aside because he apparently makes abuse survivors look bad or whatever -- when in actual fact acting badly is a very common response among abuse survivors, because we were brought up in an environment where that was normal and we don't know otherwise. not to mention the fact that the kind of mental illness Eli shows -- PTSD, mainly -- has many symptoms that make for unpleasant actions. it's not a crime to show the impact these things have, but people take it so personally. I've even seen people say it's ableist to portray characters like Eli because it gives people with trauma or mental illness a bad name, but no. that's literally not how it works. people with trauma and people with mental illness act badly, they fuck up, they can abuse people, sometimes they do harm or even kill people. ignoring this isn't going to get us anywhere, and if anything's ableist, it's looking at a clearly traumatised, mentally ill person and saying that he's a psychopath and evil and irredeemable. like, come on.

Eli didn't catch a single break for his whole life. everyone he's ever met has abused him horribly. you don't have to like him, but the people who can look at this and see nothing sympathetic about him? genuinely I don't trust them.

#long post #vicious #vengeful #anon #asks

[ilkkawhat]

1. What do you think is Nick’s greatest strength? 2. His weakness?

I've thought long and hard about this all day and I think to answer both, it's his empathy.

It's a strength in the way for the exact reason he points out to Grissom--you can't ignore the human element when it comes to the cases they work. It adds that extra layer of idk, not necessarily urgency but in some ways, yes. Would they have found Cassie alive in Gum Drops had Nick not been so personally driven because he was rescued so why couldn't this little girl, who's proven to be smart, to be a survivor, like him, why couldn't she live too? He gets more details talking to victims and suspects and witnesses like an emapthizing person would rather than some of the other CSIs. Look at the way he talked to Tommy in Death and the Maiden--which honestly I will forever think was the second installment in the exploration of Nick's childhood trauma trilogy with Overload, that ep, and Let's Make a Deal though they weren't like, as outright about it in DatM. Look at the way he talked to that one kid in I think a season two/three episode who had wet the bed--really any of the kids he talks to and helps, and helps him in return. The way he comforts his fellow CSIs (Sara in Empty Eyes always gets me, "she didn't have to die alone" because he damn near did back in that box and that's probably all he could think about), the way he's driven when one of them are in trouble, just...sort of the way he's kinda like, idk, the soul of the team?

Now that's not to say it's not a weakness--we watch him unravel and actually break down because he empathized too much with Haley in Turn, Turn, Turn and beats himself up cause he didn't do more for her. We watched him get close to Jason McCann only for the kid to turn on him and nearly kill him (and that's when another weakness of his shone through--his own explosions of anger) and saw him get to a point (before he knew the kid was involved, sure,) where he said: I'm not afraid to die, let's see if they are because he was just so wound up and had disregarded his own life (and really, I always felt like he already did ever since Warrick died, he grew more and more reckless which I think is another weakness of his) and it did land him in some hot water in a few season 4 episodes with warrick and sara (which built up to his "so what?" speech to grissom in 4x11) And I think that stubbornness he gets when people do prod him about his empathy, or when he feels that there is an injustice towards someone he kinda feels for (like that kid in compulsion and how he was super stubborn, and rightfully so, with how pushy Cavaliere was getting)

some other minor weaknesses would again, be that recklessness with his life esp in those later seasons where it seems like he thinks he's indestructible, his reluctance to get therapy, his reluctance to truly talk about his feelings, the occasional short fuse of his anger, his loyalty can cause a fault--oh and that's another part of the empathy, with how loyal he was to Ray and how they both fucked things up for themselves in season 11, his ignorance--which he does get better with as the series goes on

but also some more strengths of his: the loyalty esp when he was challenged by ecklie to try and throw grissom under the bus and did his best not to feed into it, his attention to detail and strong intuition, his endurance (I firmly believe nobody else would have survived grave danger), his charm--he seems to get along with pretty much everybody not to say he doesn't have a few people he has spats with, his courage in those situations which, a bit tragically, do make him a hardened individual who can get back up after getting shot at and who literally rose from a premature grave and I guess this bit lends into that empathy again, but just...his passion. the way that when he loves somebody, he is devoted (no matter what kind of love, platonic/romantic) and always seems like he will do whatever he can/needs to for those he loves

#nick stokes #mk talks csi #god i love him #lol do long answers like this count towards my 100 word count goal