#and the way it talks about the aftermath and the trauma of it that alters ramzan forever in some ways

[straight-to-the-pain]

I don't know if anyone else in the whump community has read 'A Constellation of Vital Phenomena' by Anthony Marra but it is genuinely a really good book and also has some of the best depictions of torture and its aftermath that I have read in fiction.

I wanted to share some of my favourite quotes, hopefully without too many spoilers as it is out of context, but maybe skip this post if you don't want to know anything at all going in.

To give a brief summary, the book centres around the lives of people in Chechnya during the first and second war between the Russian government (Feds) and the separatist rebels. The main story focuses on a man (Akhmed) who is trying to save his neighbour's daughter from being killed by the Feds after her father is taken away in the middle of the night. He does this by taking her to a hospital where he then volunteers. One of the people in his village (Ramzan) becomes an informer for the Feds after being tortured, and this is explored in the excerpts below.

‘Information the Feds would torture them for was written here on the walls for all to see. It was well understood among the men that the Feds had as much sense as two bricks smashed together. It was also understood that pain, rather than information, was the true purpose of interrogation.'

'During his first detention in the landfill, in 1995, in the first war, he had refused to inform. They had wrestled down his trousers, shown him the bolt cutters, and still he had said no. Screaming, thrashing, with his manhood half severed, he had said no. He had done that, and now he was ready to start saying yes.'

'He would have confessed everything, but they didn't ask, weren't interested, threatened to cut out his tongue and put pliers to his teeth if he spoke one more fucking word. Electric wires were wound around his fingers. A car battery was drained into his bones. God might have been watching, but it wasn't God's finger on the battery switch. The interrogating officers didn't speak. Instead he was an instrument they played, performing a duet, and in their own way they conversed through his sobs. They both wore very shiny shoes. That was all he would remember.'

'He had trouble walking, He had forgotten torture could be so exhausting. The new interrogator, the one with less shiny shoes, held him upright, using his whole body as a crutch, and helped him walk. He carefully wiped Ramzan's forehead with a handkerchief before opening the door to the next room.'

'The interrogator with less shiny shoes crouched behind him. His hands were wet. Ramzan promised everything, and the interrogator, like the parent of a child too old to believe in ghosts, watched him with disappointment, his clear eyes saddened by Ramzan's sincerity. The interrogator took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, laid the live wires on Ramzan's chest and mapped the border of their shared humanity. Ramzan offered his soul. He begged to be enslaved. The known universe contracted to the limits of the cement floor, and on it, the interrogator was both man and deity, prophet and god. By ten o'clock the interrogator with less shiny shoes asked his first question. By eleven the electrical wires were unwound from Ramzan's fingers. By noon he was allowed to dress. By one he was on the FSB payroll. He kept thanking the interrogator with less shiny shoes.'

‘Greed didn’t motivate his informing, at least not primarily; primarily he informed by necessity, to survive, for his love and hate and above all awe of the power wielded by the interrogating officer with less shiny shoes.'

'That was his greatest fear. Could he stay silent? Could he withstand what awaited him? He told himself that his love for the girl should fortify him against any torture, but this, like so much of what he told himself, was a lie. After all, he was squeamish at the sight of blood, what would he say when lying in a puddle of his own? But he saw no other way. He would pray for the strength to stay silent, for a quick heart attack, and leave the rest to God.' (This is Akhmed POV)

'When they threatened to beat me, I said nothing, Akhmed. When they threatened to beat me, I said nothing. When they threatened to electrocute me, I said nothing. When they threatened to castrate me, I said nothing. I said nothing, Akhmed. Whatever you think of me, you remember that once I said nothing when a wiser man would have sung. And the interrogators, they couldn't believe it. They called in others to examine me. I was there on the floor, and above their faces were dark ovals silhouetted by the ceiling lights. They had beaten me hard and I couldn't hear right, but I kept saying no, with every breath I had. The main reason they let me go, the only reason they didn't shoot me right there was out of perverse respect, some sort of professional courtesy. But I wish they had shot me, Akhmed, because the good part of me died there, and all this, everything since, has been an afterlife I'm trying to escape.'

‘I knew what was coming. I knew it never stops. They put a shame inside you that goes on like a bridge with no end, the humiliation, the fucking humiliation of knowing that you are not a human being but a bundle of screaming nerve endings, that the torture goes on even when the physical hurt quietens. People treated me differently when I came back the first time.'

[perennimal]

idk how anybody who’s read trimax can stop thinking about when the twins discover everything about Tesla and the subsequent consequences. It literally was the apple of their Eden, their paradise. Shattered.

Knives completely changes after it and it sparks his fear and disgust of humanity tenfold. He knew humanity wasn’t perfect but he was so so happy that things were probably going to be fine for them until the harsh reality that no they’re NOT human and that fact can be used against them hits him like a truck and he goes freaking comatose.

Not to mention how critical of a moment this was for Vash who, on the other hand, doesn’t pass out from shock but stews in the discovery absolutely mortified and scared to death about being in a place surrounded by humans because humans are evil and wicked and cruel. Refuses to eat, tries to hurt himself, and ultimately spills Rem’s blood.

But then THAT shakes him up so badly he regrets it near instantly. He and Rem talk about it.. she saw how much this hurt him as she watched over him and she pours out her regrets and tears. And this alters Vash so drastically. He will never take suicide as a way out again. He will always do his best to believe people can change because rem is living proof. and he can tell there’s something nagging at knives but doesn’t have the tools to deal with it until it’s too late.

Even when knives is told again about what happened, listens to Rem explain and regret, he quietly harbors those fears and disgust so he can use it as fuel to act against humanity. It’s so different from how Vash went through the same exact trauma. They were traumatized and they dealt with the aftermath of that trauma so differently and that is what leads to the events of the entire manga afterwards

I can’t stop thinking about Tesla

[capriclonus]

So obsessed with your fic and ty for giving your Tumblr 😋 PLS PLS GIVE ME TIPS ON WRITING THE CHARACTERS!!! I LOVE THE WAY YOU DO IT!! I am struggling rn with my story 😔😔 I aspire to be like you 😿

First off, WOW, someone coming to me for writing advice? That is an insane honour and a privilege! Honestly, I don't even know what to say, I don't consider myself an amazing writer (mostly I just consider myself one of the many pieces of trash worshipping at Shadowheart's feet) so its just fucking amazing that you want my input! Secondly, I'm sorry to hear you're struggling with writing! It can be so so difficult. I think we're all guilty of forcing ourselves to write sometimes when we can't--so make sure you take time to do other things that aren't reading/writing to clear your headspace (and also simply changing the colour of the word document helps a lot! Also the font).

In terms of writing characters, a lot of what I do is very subconscious so you'll have to excuse my somewhat word jumble here as I try to think about and vocalise what it is that I do--

1. Get to know your characters. Recognise they aren't static beings, but change. For example, using Shadowheart as a reference, I think we can agree she has three basic states of being in the game: first, what's she’s like as an acolyte of Shar; second, what she's like as an ex-acolyte/selunite; and third, what she's like as a Dark Justiciar. Ie. in the beginning Shadowheart is blunt, defensive, scared and anxious. Still, she's also committed to her cause which has been off-roaded by needing to find a cure (and she has private doubts about that cause because of the trauma she's been through finding the artefact). But as a selunite, she's much more open and honest with her doubts and her feelings AND she's not afraid to have a bit more of a joke--you can sense a weight has been lifted from her, even as the initial decision crushes her. Also, think about how they speak, the words they use, and how they vocalise. Shadowheart speaks differently at each iteration--as an acolyte, she speaks relatively informally (for Shadowheart) when she's speaking to you, but when she's talking about Lady Shar, she alters her language and speaks more formally, more weighty. Compare this to Dark Justiciar: she's very formal all the time now, because she's moved from an acolyte to a representative of Shar, which needs to be taken seriously.

2. Empathise with them. What does the current stage of their journey feel like? If it were you, how would you feel and how does that differ to how they might feel? Read into the things they say in-game: their psychology comes as much as from what they don't say as it does what they do say.

3. Contextualise them within your fic: now you know what stage of their journey are they at, think about how that is affected by the environment/context you've put them in. For example, in my fic Give it Up for DJ Shadowheart, Shadowheart never moved past the stage of being an acolyte of Lady Shar but, more than that, she was never given the choice to do so-- Shar abandoned her when she was no longer useful so she was never given the object of choice. How does that affect her character, and how does it affect it in a modern context? For me, I decided not being given that choice would likely make Shadowheart feel stuck in place and, given her in-game bias to move to Selunite when offered choice, it makes sense to me that she would slowly become the selunite version of herself over time so long as she had positive influences in her life that promoted finding joy and purpose in other places, and promoted healing. Thinking about Lae’zel, I’ve framed her in the aftermath of her abandoning Vlaakith (getting fired from her job and losing her girlfriend is my equivalency to this) but instead of having another cause (Orpheus/a new job/her girlfriend) she has nothing and feels she has nowhere to go. And in my opinion, that would simply be too much for her to cope with, as someone who is driven by purpose and structure. Therefore she falls into a deep depression.

4. Have fun with it!!! Fanfiction is ultimately about self-indulgence and you should be focusing on what makes you happy to write more than anything. The characters don’t need to be perfect. In BG3 they are all so unique and as long as you are having fun whilst you’re writing them—if you’re making yourself smile, turning yourself on, whatever it is you want to get from your fic—then you are doing an AMAZING JOB!

Honestly I feel I’ve mostly talked a load of guff here, it was a lot harder to think about how I characterise people than I thought, but I hope I’ve helped in some way, even if just by explaining my thought processes behind my own characterisations. I hope it makes sense anyway!

And for what its worth, I’m sure you’re doing a lot better than you think you are and I wish you all the best in your fanfiction endeavours! Remember that, as much as I celebrate kudos/bookmark/hits milestones—and I do—they are very arbitrary numbers and if you’re happy with your fic, if you get pleasure out of reading/writing it, that’s really all that matters. I’m not ashamed to say I reread my fics all the time because I wrote them for me! And of course, to think that I’ve written something just for my own enjoyment that other people have enjoyed too is really wonderful! But I always keep in mind that at the end of it all, my fiction is for me!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR AMAZING ENGAGEMENT BTW YOU ARE SO SWEET AND I WISH YOU ALL THE BEST!! Come back anytime, I love to chat!!! <3 <3

[boethiah]

What's your take on Vivec's water face?

i think it's a metaphor for dissociation. the actual narrative of the 36 lessons broadly speaking is vivec's attempt to deal with the aftermath of a traumatic experience and apparent dissociation is depicted throughout. so i interpret the water-face as one form of depersonalisation or derealisation. "so that [he] may see beyond [his] own secrets"-- specifically, it's the way vivec distorts his own perception of his trauma, recontextualising events to place them back under his control.

elaboration under the cut (rape cw)

sermon 16:

The Hortator wandered through the Mourning Hold, wrestling with the lessons he had learned. They were slippery in his mind. He could not always keep the words straight and knew that this was a danger. He wandered to find Vivec, his lord and master, the glory of the image of Veloth, and found him of all places in the Temple of False Thinking. There, clockwork shears were taking off Vivec's hair. A beggar king had brought his loom and was making of the hair an incomplete map of adulthood and death. Nerevar said, 'Why are you doing this, milord?' Vivec said, 'To make room for the fire.' And the Hortator could see that Vivec was out of sorts, though not because of the impending new power to come. The golden warrior-poet had been exercising his Water Face as well, learned from the dreughs before he was born. Nerevar said, 'Is this to keep you from the fire?' Vivec said, 'It is so that I may see with truth. It, and my place here at the altar of Padhome in the house of False Thinking, serve so that I may see beyond my own secrets. The Water Face cannot lie. It comes from the ocean, which is too busy to think, much less lie. Moving water resembles truth by its trembling.'

as i said, i see the 36 lessons as being about vivec's trauma; sermon 16 takes place immediately after vivec is raped by molag bal. vivec apparently dissociated during the event-- talks about his head wandering away, referring to himself as "not whole" during the event-- and i think that dissociation stayed with him. if you've ever had the misfortune of going through a physical attack like that you're probably aware that afterwards you're just "out of sorts", it can take weeks or months or years to stop dissociating and feel fully present again.

also important here is that i see the "netchimens wife" vivec refers to as his mother as just... vivec. specifically, vivec as a child. vivec dissociates from his childhood trauma by imagining it happening to some other different girl who just held him in her body before he was born, but given the way vivec thinks of marriage in the sermons (primarily as a traumatic event), i think the use of wife there is significant. but anyways

sermon sixteen, where the water face comes from, is imo vivec's immediate response to that attack. vivec shaves off his hair (after complimenting molag bal's hair in sermon twelve), and practices his "water face", which he apparently learned to wear in childhood. he's trying to reclaim bodily autonomy but his perspective has been fundamentally altered. trauma changes the way you see the world on a fundamental level

furthermore, vivec says he wears the water face to see with truth-- but an image seen through water is distorted and refracted, not often in its true shape. so one wonders if this is the period where vivec is rewriting what happened to him, the way the entirety of the 36 lessons is a rewrite of his own life story. who among us hasn't convinced ourself that a traumatic event was under our control in order to feel better about it.

[yeahmiknight]

My system is so weird because....its got a really weird way of operating and people say im faking DID because of it which...im not I dont think??? Eh I guess ill go into more detail proceeds to dump life story Gonna make something clear: Im not an Endo(?), I did not choose to be a system. My system came from trauma and even if we have stuff like fictives and all that, this is a real thing. Im not being a system for any type of gain, people dont understand how painful it is to be this way sometimes. It hurts sometimes. For the longest time I denied being a system because of some online drama stuff. Mainly because I thought people would just assume it was an excuse when I started acting completely different and I always just assumed I was broken in some form of weird way, which I ended up calling BPD which was HALF RIGHT?? Before I truly came to terms with the fact I was a system, I had 2 beings who I now understand are alters who would talk to me- well only one of them would really talk to me the other would talk AT me in a sense or just force front. One of them I now know is a/the persecutor. For about a few years of my life up until very recently my persecutor had been one pulling most of the strings because I had no idea this guy was co-fronting or just fronting in general and assumed that it was just me being a terrible person, so I always made sure to say it was my fault when anything happened, I never fought, I never really defended myself, I just took everything. My persecutor would always start stuff and then back off when the aftermath came up so I would have to try to figure out what was going on while I had people yelling at me for saying things I didnt even know or doing things I wasnt aware of. It wasnt until one of my good friends came to me while I was questioning something about systems and let me talk to a guy who actually was a system and it turned out I checked almost every single box for being a system. Of course I continued to deny it like an idiot and even tried to repress my own thoughts out of fear that I truly was in an effort to try and get it to go away???? as if that would work??? hello what was I thinking. Eventually I started coming to terms with the fact I was a system and thats when more alters started popping up. Now for about the part of my system experience that people try to get at me for. Me and my alters can communicate really well, I can talk to them, they talk to me (for the most part) they talk to eachother and its lalalalalala. I barely have any memory fog and when I do the intensity seems to be weirdly fluid? Sometimes ill remember most stuff but other times my memory will just be blanker than a white sheet of paper. Ive tried to develop a way for my alters to be able to front when they need/want too and let other people know through emojis as my alters sometimes wanna pop around discord, this doesnt work all the time of course as sometimes we just forget or they dont want to change the emojis but its how we do it. After figuring out I was a system we all kinda...collectively banned together to not let the persecutor front? Hes a really bad guy im talking....really....really bad guy, we know we cant just hold him down forever but we try I guess. My fictives are an odd. Considering the fact they are almost all objects because thats the main type of media I consume? They all formed under very weird circumstances for some reason. Four of them just started developing randomly, one was spawned because of the stress of RETAIL apparently? And one spawned because of a lady at Walmart tryna square up because I scanned her item twice and she was tryna beat the life outa me r something. They dont act exactly like their sources and I mean thats fine they can do what they want. The weird thing I guess is the one that spawned because of the lady thing didnt even do anything when they arrived, the minute they kinda showed up they immediately backed off. I dunno where this post went I just wish there was a place I could talk freely about these guys and their antics.

[bstroobery]

Made some system memes extremely specific to our system.

Explanation of the last one under the cut for anyone curious I guess??

- Johnny Ghost

Warnings for the explanation/rant(???): mentions of bullying, allusions to suicide, explanation of trauma (possibly seen as trauma dumping I guess??)

We have a bad habit of not defending ourselves when things happen, mostly because last time we did defend ourselves, we ended up being the “villains” and no one believed a word of what we said.

Anyway, we were bullied in middle school because a toxic ex friend decided to spread misinformation about stuff we did (making roleplays out to be real life, straight up lying and saying we did things we didn’t do, etc).

Fast forward 6 years. We befriend someone, and they remind us a lot of that toxic ex friend. Many alters are made extremely uncomfortable by them and refused to come near the front because of that. Blue themselves eventually became uncomfortable around this person too, though never admitted it because they’re a friend.

I will admit: we did do some bad things while friends with this person. But Y’know what we did? We apologized and fixed our behavior the second it was brought to our attention (we lack socialization skills and still need help figuring out what’s right and wrong in a conversation). One of which was purposefully triggering that person because it had been done to us multiple times. Even though we said we didn’t like it, the people who did it never apologized and called us sensitive.

However, the behavior was called out. We apologized. We tried to make it right. This happened months ago.

Fast forward another month and we break the friendship off because it’s not healthy. We try and be the adults. Ex-Friend makes another close friend of ours block us, even though they didn’t want to. We got extremely triggered by this. And I mean extremely.

Sierra, one of our protectors/persecutors (we love her anyway. She’s still learning. Give her time. She’s an introject of the first toxic friend from middle school), was the only one who was able to process stuff. Keep in mind, she was 13. She handled the entire situation poorly, calling those two out in a discord server we were active in before leaving. One of the mods reached out to us and Sierra explained everything the best she could, as she had also been dormant since 2018 and had been harshly triggered to the front by the situation. Dream managed to pull herself together and explain that she kept a mental list of the issues that were present in the relationship.

Sadly, we didn’t have any of the physical evidence because we were trying to remain mature about the situation and wanted to move more towards forgiveness than pettiness. Ex-friend had no intent of forgiving apparently, as when the mods had talked to them, they spoke about the things we had done as if they had recently happened and weren’t from a month ago or things we had apologized for and tried to do better on.

One of those things was something Simon (Book) had said to them in a moment of panic, not knowing what to do in the situation present at the time (an alter of ex-friend’s threatening to hurt the body of ex-friend). He said something he deeply regrets, and we won’t say what that is because he has indeed moved on from that. Even when he said it, he didn’t mean anything by it. It was a mental script of sorts in response to a traumatic situation for us that also caused us to relive old trauma as toxic ex-friend had been someone who would threaten to hurt themself if it meant getting their way. (Hell, they even blamed us for their attempted self-delete because we didn’t answer the phone while at a family Christmas party).

We now are dealing with the aftermath of having multiple people block us because of this. We received a ban from the discord server for purposefully triggering someone, and it appears that no one is really interested in our side of the story, mostly because Sierra’s immediate response when we received the ban was delete all social media so that all of these triggers and things could go away and not hurt the system anymore. She was a 13 year old thrown into a very stressful situation. We have recently talked to her, and she is growing up rather quickly in the system as well. She has since learned from her mistakes.

Simon and Sierra are truly sorry for what they did and how it had ended up hurting the system. However, we have expressed our care for them and how we forgive them for what happened, as they are attempting to better themselves based off of their mistakes.

And that’s what upsets me the most. We’re healing, yes, but it still hurts to have people we once thought of as friends block us when we never even explained our side of the story because we were acting in a fight or flight manner due to the extremely triggering and traumatic situation we were thrown in.

In both instances, both parties are at fault. Not one or the other. We reacted poorly to these situations due to them being extremely traumatic for us. It’s why we’re perfectionists, because every time we make a mistake this is what happens. We never explain our side of the story because it always ends with us never being believed.

But we’re moving on, and we’re healing. Slowly but surely. It just sucks that we can barley interact with the Taleblr tag now because a lot of people who we followed blocked us.

It just takes some time, I guess. :)

We just kinda needed to get that out there. Won’t drop names because we aren’t trying to call people out or cancel them. Just trying to explain the meaning behind the last two memes I made.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Mapplethorpe accidentally killing his best friend and girlfriend because he didn't feed into his Vampirism, so it took literal control over his mind and MADE him feed it.

Manipulating his fear and his need for comfort in moment of starvation and weakness. Taking advantage of his gut instinct to seek Doe out, because Doe's composed and clever and always seems to have the way to comfort him and making things better. Mape's Vampirism using this line of thought to make him hunt her down, abduct her and kill her by completely altering his mind to ensure he doesn't struggle and starve himself any further. Painting this picture in the warped, deluded scape of his mind clouded by his pain that Mape's just run to her. Flew off with her, scared and upset, but when they touch down in the bluff, she calms him down, she manages to make the pain go away and talk him down out of his panic some other way. Until he finally is given back control of his senses and mind and is left in the explosive aftermath of his actions. Leading to Doe's resurrection as we all know.

And Mapplethorpe thinking that after everything, after bringing her back the trauma of that event is over...

until Doe's adoptive family, but especially her younger sister and her girlfriend mobilize with a plan of attack and decide they are gonna wear him down, either by just annoying him into submission or by straight up kidnapping him until he fesses up where Doe went.

Cause Zoe KNOWS, she KNOWS Mapplethorpe knows something. Doe and him were attached at the hip for months before she disappeared! She was dragging the slump that was him around, and damn if he didn't seem happy about it. But he didn't take part in a single search, he didn't seem torn up, he didn't come near her folks home, he never went to the vigil, he stopped frequenting the boardwalk as much, AND he started to avoid her siblings and parents like they had the plague. It seems, to Zoe at least, like a real 'Jenny Was a Friend of Mine' situation. But Zoe has no idea how he places into the 'strange thing that came out of the sky like a missile and grabbed her' equation, but she KNOWS he's involved SOMEHOW.

And Reese is just so so in love with Zoe that she's picking up the baton in the fight for finding what happened to Doe without question. Her girlfriend mourning and obviously horrifically traumatized by whatever happened to her sister? Reese is gonna find whatever happened to her or drag the person responsible to her feet. Lesbian love is just like that! Reese is a lot chiller about it but like, she's approaching Mapplethorpe in the fakest good cop manner cause Reese is out here like 'accidents happen! let's say you and Doe were roughhousing near the cliffs and she slipped and fell, it happens! We just want to know cause they're really hurting' but she's also wearing like 20 wires and Mape knows she's trying to coax a 'confession' but he couldn't even explain what happened if he wanted to! (he doesn't)

[system-splintered]

I can pretty confidently say I've gotten over the first hump of trauma therapy.

I'm at a point where I don't get triggered every day, and when I do, I can contain the memory relatively quickly through journaling to get it out so it doesn't get lost to the haze of amnesia, setting that journal aside until I'm ready to deal with the contents, then sending it to my therapist, she prints it in the office for our session. I am definitely still getting back memories but in getting more and more confident in dealing with them and learning to cope with them without there being an "aftermath" so to speak.

Like we found out the other day in a roundabout way that we have a subsystem within a subsystem. We journaled about it, from where the memory came up, to where each alter switched in and the previous fronter dissociated away into the back to hide with the weight of their knowledge. It was clear where the breaks were, our handwriting is distinct from one part to another.

At the deepest level, the innermost subsystem is a la OSDD-1, they can't fully switch out, only dissociate away some aspects of the experience (in our case, they could basically pick 2 senses and chose sight and external sound, however just being able to hear their subsystem-mate speaking was traumatic in its own right, and there were still tactile sensations and smells), but yeah they each filled in the blank that they were present for, and we sent the journal as an email to our therapist. We haven't talked about it yet but that was a choice, she asked but I wanted a light session today so we didn't do trauma work.

After we wrote it all out, it felt like we could put it down for the time being, and let someone else front if it won't leave our mind.

Progress is really affirming to see happening. I'm finally starting to be a little proud of myself for how far we've come, especially being polyfragmented so severely. Still forget 60% of the shit that happens to me but I don't want to die and I'm actually going learning to cope with the increased pain on top of everything else pretty well. It's the almost the only thing I've been suicidal over in probably six months and I just... Never imagined I'd get here. I kinda thought there was something entirely new and fucked up wrong with me as a kid, like a brand new mental illness all for me, and I just thought there was no helping me.

Turns out it's pretty easy to think you're the problem when you're living in an incredibly severely abusive household. Whodathunk.

[astaldis]

Chapter 6: As we lie here in our bed

@witcher-rarepairs​  @cake-shop-rarepair-bingo

Rarepair Bingo Prompts: Bedsharing, Temporary or permanent blindness, Write a disabled character

Witcher Rarepair Prompt Fest Prompt: Post Season 2: After their lie is uncovered by Emhyr var Emreis, Cahir and Fringilla are arrested and thrown into the dungeons - in the same cell. With only one bed. First they bicker and bitch and blame each other for their failure, but this changes drastically when Cahir is tortured, and badly so, and Fringilla has to take care of him.

Rating: Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Relationship: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & Fringilla Vigo

Additional Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Major Character Injury, Friendship, Witcher Rarepair Summer Bingo, Title from a The Amazing Devil Song, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Aftermath of Torture, Abacination, Mental Breakdown

From Chapter 6/7:

As time passes, Cahir gets better, at least physically. The swelling goes down and the bruises change colour and slowly start to fade away. The cell is small and with the pallet and the bucket being the only items in it, it is not difficult for Cahir to internalise its layout and navigate around it even without being able to see. In contrast to Fringilla, he can touch the dimeritium rods in the walls and feel his way along them, which helps. He soon manages to do most things on his own, although there is not much to do, really, beside eat and drink, use the bucket, and sleep. And talk. It is really funny, Fringilla cannot remember ever having talked that much to one and the same person within the span of just a few days. Truly remarkable how this involuntary, forced by circumstance proximity, this sharing of a bed, a blanket, even a bucket, has altered their relationship. Before, Fringilla was not even sure whether or not they were friends at all or just competitors for the White Flame's recognition, favour and praise. Now they talk about all kinds of things, about politics, the war and their failed mission, but also about a lot more personal matters. Fringilla once mentioned to Cahir how jealous she was of Yennefer during their years at Aretuza. Now she tells him everything about her time there. She tells him about her stupid timidity, her loneliness, her self-doubts and fears, about how she tried to please everybody, about how hard she worked, so much harder than Yennefer ever did. And still, there was this persistent feeling of never being enough for Tissaia and her Uncle, of always being overlooked and outshone by others who were both less talented, less diligent and far less well-behaved. It was not fair, not ever. She even tells Cahir about her shrivelled hand. Nobody at all seemed to care about it then although it was not only horribly painful for her and shocking when it happened - by no fault of hers, mind you, for how should she have known, Tissaia only told them afterwards that the flower had to die for the stone to move, not beforehand. What teacher would do that to their students? - but she had to live with it for years until, finally, her transformation fixed the ugly deformity. There are fond memories to share, too, a few nice ones from her school days at Aretuza, but mostly of her childhood in the beautiful fairytale Duchy of Toussaint, which ended so abruptly with the unfortunate cat incident. Sometimes, Fringilla wonders what her life would have been like if that had never happened, if she had never shown any signs of chaos and led an unremarkable, non-magical life as a Toussaintois noblewoman, probably married away to some baron or count and with a whole swarm of children. Well, she would be either dead or an ugly old crone by now if she had not become a sorceress. So, perhaps, even if her current circumstances are far from enviable, it is for the better despite everything. If Cahir is right and she will be released soon, there is still so much she can do. And this time she will not disappoint the White Flame ...

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47540179/chapters/120413242

[personalinjurylawyerla]

Are You Suffering from Passenger Trauma After an Uber Accident?

When we think of Uber accidents, physical injuries like broken bones and bruises often come to mind. However, another type of injury, equally devastating, tends to fly under the radar: psychological trauma. This invisible injury can affect passengers long after the accident, altering their lives in profound ways. If you've experienced an Uber accident and are struggling with trauma, reaching out to an Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles can be an essential step in your recovery.

Understanding Passenger Trauma

Psychological trauma after an Uber accident can manifest in various forms. Passengers may experience anxiety, depression, or even Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). These conditions can significantly disrupt daily life, making it hard to return to normal activities.

An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles understands these challenges. They can help you navigate the complexities of your case, ensuring that psychological injuries are acknowledged and compensated.

The Signs of Psychological Trauma

Recognizing the signs of psychological trauma is the first step towards healing. Symptoms might include:

Nightmares or flashbacks about the accident

Severe anxiety or panic attacks

Avoidance of driving or riding in cars

Mood swings or irritability

Difficulty concentrating

If you notice any of these symptoms, it's important to seek help immediately. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles can guide you to appropriate medical and psychological resources.

Why Psychological Trauma Is Often Overlooked?

Physical injuries are visible and easier to document, making them more straightforward in legal claims. Psychological trauma, on the other hand, is often unseen and can be subjective. Many passengers might feel ashamed or reluctant to talk about their mental health issues, fearing they won't be taken seriously.

However, an experienced Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles knows how significant these invisible injuries are. They can work with medical professionals to provide the necessary evidence to support your claim.

Steps to Take if You’re Experiencing Psychological Trauma

Seek Professional Help: Consulting a mental health professional is crucial. They can diagnose and treat conditions like PTSD, anxiety, or depression.

Document Your Experience: Keep a journal detailing your symptoms, treatment, and how the trauma affects your daily life. This documentation can be invaluable for your Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles.

Consult an Uber Accident Lawyer: A skilled lawyer can help you understand your rights and build a strong case. They can ensure that your psychological injuries are considered when seeking compensation.

How an Uber Accident Lawyer in Los Angeles Can Help?

An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles specializes in cases involving rideshare services. They understand the unique challenges these cases present, including the complexities of dealing with independent contractors and the nuances of Uber’s insurance policies.

Assessing Your Claim: The lawyer will evaluate your case, considering both physical and psychological injuries.

Gathering Evidence: They will collect medical records, psychological evaluations, and personal testimonies to build a comprehensive case.

Negotiating with Insurance Companies: Insurance companies often try to minimize payouts. An experienced lawyer will negotiate aggressively to ensure you receive fair compensation.

Representing You in Court: If necessary, your lawyer will take your case to court, presenting a compelling argument that highlights the impact of your trauma.

The Importance of Legal Support

Dealing with the aftermath of an Uber accident can be overwhelming, especially when facing psychological trauma. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles provides the support and expertise needed to navigate this challenging time. They can help you secure compensation for medical bills, therapy costs, lost wages, and pain and suffering.

Real Stories, Real Impact

Consider Jane’s story. She was involved in an Uber accident that left her with minor physical injuries but severe PTSD. She couldn’t sleep, avoided cars, and struggled to return to her normal life. With the help of an Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles, Jane was able to secure compensation for her therapy and lost wages, allowing her to focus on her recovery.

Taking the First Step

If you or someone you know is dealing with psychological trauma after an Uber accident, don’t hesitate to seek help. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles can provide the guidance and support necessary to navigate your legal options and help you on the path to recovery.

Psychological trauma is a serious and often overlooked consequence of Uber accidents. By acknowledging and addressing these invisible injuries, you can take important steps towards healing and regaining control of your life. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles is your ally in this journey, ensuring that you receive the compensation and support you need.

[talesof-old]

i don’t wanna live like this | e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x afab!fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, some angst, more towards the beginning, possibly ooc Eddie (i’m still trying to figure out how to write his character), the reader laughs at inappropriate times, injuries, blood, mentions of death, ptsd, some mentions of touch aversion, a (probably inaccurate) panic attack, smut, mentions of suicide ideation towards the end and trying to heal from that, kinda edited kinda not

word count: 6.5k

request? yes or no

masterlist

watching your boyfriend almost die over spring break was not how you envisioned your year going

now, you struggle to connect

reblogs & feedback are greatly encouraged and appreciated!

+++

By now, you were used to the sounds of Eddie sneaking out of bed. In the aftermath of the failed plan against Vecna, after you’d all but dragged Eddie back through the now large gate and shoved the keys into Dustin’s hands, you’d managed to get him to the hospital just in time. Once one of the nurses began to eye your boyfriend with an all too familiar look of fear, you’d forced yourself to stay awake until you could get a hold of Dr. Owen’s FBI friends. It wasn’t until a week ago that you’d finally stopped jumping at every noise, when that feeling of panic was no longer a constant, though you still considered it a frequent visitor.

Once Eddie was cleared to leave the hospital, you’d taken him to your place. Your parents argued a little at first, but upon seeing whatever grief stricken and terror filled expression that had taken up residence on your face, they relented. The late night escapes started three nights after that.

It was also around that time that Eddie confessed that he’d like his own bed, instead of sleeping with you in yours. You’d agreed simply out of fear of accidentally hurting him in your sleep.

You blinked slowly into the dark. Eddie’s figure quietly opened your door and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in your room. A sigh escaped you before you were crawling out of bed, tugging on your clothes to make sure nothing was showing before following after him. From what you could tell, the reason he couldn’t sleep was the same as yours: nightmares.

They plagued you in a way that left you restless and uneasy, never able to close your eyes without seeing Eddie’s bloodstained and tearful smile. You gnaw on your inner cheek and sneak past your siblings’ rooms, all the way to the front door that was now unlocked.

Slipping on a pair of shoes, you stepped out onto the porch and shut it behind you, sitting on the edge of the step next to Eddie. He had his arms crossed over his body and a haunted look on his face that nearly brought you to tears. His cheeks were flushed even in the dim light, though you assumed it was due to the summer heat and his refusal to wear anything but long shirts and pants.

“You didn’t have to come out here.”

His voice was low, raspy as he spoke. You nodded, turning your gaze to the sky. Stars twinkled above you, their light flickering in the inky darkness. It reminded you of that night. When you’d finally emerged from Eddie’s wrecked trailer, and the smoke hadn’t yet clouded everything.

“I know.”

You kept your eyes on the sky. The last time you did this, you’d argued. Eddie said you were suffocating him, preventing him from moving on in your desire to talk about what happened. It was a hard pill to swallow, the trauma of what happened. You both had gone through something life-altering. It wasn’t surprising that you felt like different people, perhaps a little more fractured, a little more broken than before.

It might’ve been a harder pill for you to swallow that your boyfriend might not want to be that anymore. After almost losing him completely, you’d realized that you really didn’t want to have to learn how to live without him. You could, you’d done it before. But you truly and certainly didn’t want to.

Your hand twitched with the desire to reach out and hold his hand. It wasn’t worth it, you reasoned. Last time, he’d flinched upon contact and was tense for as long as you’d touched him. You frowned before wrapping your arms around yourself. It was understandable, you reasoned. Touch reminded him of what happened.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” his words were sharper than you were prepared for. You find yourself curling farther inward, nodding at his words. Speaking was hard some days, your voice cracking whenever something reminded you of spring break. It was difficult to form words at times, to explain yourself in a way that seemed true.

“I know.”

There was movement out of the corner of your eye as Eddie turned to look at you. You squirmed a little, still keeping your eyes forward. He sighed heavily and began fiddling with something on his wrist. Your gaze darted to his hands before you could stop yourself, and when they did, your heart lurched before a knot formed in your throat. It was the friendship bracelet you’d made for him ages ago, presenting it to him mostly as a joke, though he had absolutely refused to take it off once you’d put it on him. The black and white thread was faded and stained with age, and you gnawed on your inner cheek to keep from opening your mouth.

“You’ve been uh, distant lately, y’a know?” Tears pricked at your eyes but you blinked them away. It was true, you’d been distant ever since that argument a month ago. You’d thrown yourself into checking up on your other friends, particularly Robin and Nancy. It wasn’t hard to convince Dustin to check up on Eddie either. Since then, the two of you had rarely interacted outside of getting ready for bed. You were gone by the time he woke up, and normally didn’t make it home until late in the evening. The feelings of fatigue from constant social interaction had been creeping up on you, but you’d tried your best to ignore it in favor of giving Eddie the space to heal.

“I just wanted you to feel more comfortable, like I wasn’t smothering you or something.” You tried to keep your tone light, airy in an attempt to avoid any conflict. Eddie shook his head at the reply, a bitter scoff leaving his lips. You bit at your lip.

“You can’t even look at me, can you?” Your frown deepened and you finally let yourself look at Eddie. His under eye bags were more prominent in the soft porch light as he stared at you like you could solve all of his problems. There was a hint of desperation in his eyes, and it broke you to see him so unsure. Your eyes flickered to the fading scars on his face, the skin slightly raised and pink. Acid swirled in your stomach.

“I miss you,” he muttered your name afterwards like a prayer, and you nodded again.

This time, you gently reached out, skimming your fingertips along the side of his hand. He froze and you went to pull away, heart aching at the idea that your touch made him uncomfortable. A you should’ve known better danced across your mind. He started at the possibility of you retreating again, reaching out to snatch your hand and gripping it tightly in his. Your brain short-circuited at the first Eddie-initiated contact in weeks.

“Come on, let’s go lie down. We both need the sleep.”

You kept your voice at a whisper, soft and slow as if Eddie were some kind of wounded, wild animal. He stared at you, his face guarded before he nodded in reply, letting you pull him up and back into the house.

As the two of you made your way back to your bedroom, you noticed his hand beginning to tremble in yours. You paused, glancing back at him and loosening your own grip on his hand. The trembling doesn’t stop.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You gently guided him into your room and clicked the door shut, not wanting your family to become privy to a very much private conversation. He settled on the edge of your bed, never letting you stray far from his side. It was common to see Eddie like this. Frazzled, scared, scarred. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t act the same whenever you caught a glance at his injuries. They’d been bandaged following the incident, but after the doctors said to stop wrapping them, his clothes never came off around you. Even before that, when he had to change them, he’d go to Dustin or Steve instead of you.

You perched on the edge of the bed next to him, shoulders and thighs barely grazing, bodies scarcely touching besides your intertwined hands. The room was dead silent as you let him gather himself. Eventually, his tremors receded and he leaned heavily against you, curling into your frame. You wrapped an arm around him, just holding him until he was ready to move.

It was strange, you used to think. How you could be so comfortable with someone that silence didn’t bother you. Now, you relished in that quiet. It was soothing in a way, far from the screeches of bats in your dreams.

When Eddie fully relaxed into you, you knew it was time to actually lay down. You couldn’t help the dread that began to pool in your stomach as you pulled away from him and stroked his cheeks. His eyes were wide as he gazed at you, that earlier panic of you leaving rising to the surface.

“Let’s lay down, m’kay?”

You shuffled backwards until you could pull your duvet and sheets out from under you, patting the space next to you to encourage Eddie to join you. That sickly feeling clawed its way up your throat when he glanced over at the bed you’d somehow managed to fit inside your room for him.

He nodded again, so unusually quiet, and climbed in beside you. Without thinking, you curled into him, leg thrown over his waist and body slotted into his side. Eddie tensed at the contact, hands stiff as he gripped at your waist. You froze in response, internally debating how to apologize for stepping over another boundary.

“I don’t,” his voice broke as he tried to speak. “I can’t.”

You turned your head to gaze up at him, at his clenched jaw and tightly shut eyes. You sighed and drew your limbs away from him, shifting to lay on your back beside him. Perhaps it was a new fear of intimacy that had taken root in him, an insecurity that you’d run as soon as you saw his scars. Eddie stayed tense beside you as the only contact you kept was the sides of your hands.

“I know, I understand, but all I want is to hold you. I don’t expect anything else, I promise.” It had been months since you’d last been sexually active, and since you shared your room with him it wasn’t like there was a lot of time to take matters into your own hands. Despite that, it hadn’t bothered you like you thought it might. Instead, anxiety and worry took over and seemed to invade all of your senses, inhibiting you from feeling any sense of arousal. It didn’t really matter, you’d thought. Eddie was alive, so if it took years for him to be comfortable with just kissing you, that was alright. That was fine.

“Is that okay?”

It was like those words broke a dam and suddenly he was burying his head in the crook of your neck and entangling all of your limbs. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, weeks worth of pent up emotion finally being released. You let him be, simply running your fingers through his hair and rubbing up and down his back. Nothing could really be said. There was no one you all could talk to except each other. Robin, Nancy, and you would talk each other down often, keeping tabs on each other’s mental states. The same couldn’t be said for the boys, as far as you were aware.

Soon, Eddie’s sobs turned to sniffles and you kissed the top of his head, nuzzling your cheek into his hair. His grip on your waist tightened and you relaxed further into the mattress, his weight a familiar comfort.

It took three weeks after that to finally be able to hold him without any adverse reaction.

You groaned as you flopped onto his bed, face buried in your arms as you thought about quitting your new job and moving to some secluded beach far away from people. Eddie chuckled from his place beside you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he poked your arm.

“What’s got you so worked up?” You rolled over, half laying on him as you closed your eyes and hummed. He simply wrapped an arm around you and held you as you figured out what words best described how you felt. A part of you felt as though this was because you had to pretend like everything was alright, like there wasn’t some monster threatening your life. Like you weren’t reliving the worst moment of your life whenever you slept.

“I honestly think I’m just tired of people.” He laughed, a full and hearty sound that sent your heart soaring. You grinned and turned again, reaching up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He didn’t respond immediately, and you pulled away to lay back down when he gripped the back of your neck and kissed you with a fierceness you did not expect on a Monday afternoon.

You let out a soft sigh when he moved you to straddle him, groaning as soon as you rubbed against his half-hard erection. He bucked up into you and you swiped a tongue along his bottom lip, smiling when he responded by opening his mouth to you. His free hand trailed up and down your side, eventually coming to rest right at your tailbone. He guided your hips to give him some sort of friction, whimpering when the seam of his jeans and the fabric of his briefs rubbed just right against his slit. You moaned at the sound, hips stuttering before resuming their rhythm. The two of you spent the next several minutes reacquainting each other’s mouths, rocking against each other and breathing heavily. Your hands wandered down to his sides, touch feather light as you fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He stopped, wrapping his hands around your wrists and shaking his head. You smiled softly and lifted your hands to his cheeks, pressing another chaste kiss to the swollen skin.

“I love you, Eddie Munson, you know that right?” His cheeks flushed red but he nodded, licking his lips as he stared at you.

“Love you too, princess.” He tugged on the ends of your hair and you swatted his hand away, curling into his chest and pressing a kiss on the exposed scar tissue at his throat. He rested his hand on the back of your head, letting you use him as a pillow as you de-stressed from your job.

It took another two weeks for the two of you to be intimate, a collision of need and desperation, looking to each other as anchors in a rocky sea.

“Bad, huh?”

Your hands trembled as you took in his injuries, taking in the amount of blood that was seeping out of the wounds. For once in your life, you truly didn’t have any idea of what to do. If he bled out here, you’d never forgive yourself. But getting him through the gate would be a struggle even when Robin, Steve, and Nancy returned. A wave of helplessness washed over you and you shook your head.

Clouds swirled above you and seemed to darken the edges of your vision as you collapsed to your knees next to him and pulled him into your lap. The bats screeches still rung in your ears, like shrill bells or nails on a chalkboard.

“No, no, you’re gonna be fine, baby. You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna get you to a hospital, okay?”

Your voice cracked from the tears already streaming down your cheeks. Eddie stared at you, whimpering in the back of his throat from the pain.

“M’kay.”

You stroked the side of his face, glancing at Dustin who had knelt down on the opposite side of Eddie. He was sobbing, shoulders shaking as he began to look around. It took you a moment to realize he was looking for Steve, the only other person he truly believed could fix this.

You began to shift, motioning for Dustin to help you lift him up. Warm, sticky liquid had begun to stain your own clothes, and you fought back your own sobs in order to stay focused.

“Come on, Eddie.”

You were tugging him up, aware that he was probably in more pain than he led on given his raspy, wet breathing. Your eyes were flitting between each wound as you struggled to move him.

“I-I think, I think I just need a second.” His voice was thick with an emotion you truly didn’t want to analyze, didn’t want to accept. You refused to let him leave you like this. A part of you knew that if he died, you’d always hate him for not listening to you just this once.

Dustin was the one to respond as the two of you set Eddie back down, “Okay, okay.”

All you could do was stare blankly at him, heart racing a million miles per minute as he began to smile a far too bitter smile. Blood coated his teeth and you choked, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?”

The words were like a stab to your gut, like he purposefully twisted the knife so that you’d never heal. Dustin and you were shaking your heads before the words even fully processed.

“No. No, no, no, you didn’t run.”

Tears were falling down Dustin’s cheeks as he comforted Eddie, as he was there for him like you should be. You were shuddering, rocking yourself as you tried to convince your mind that this was all a mistake. A nightmare.

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”

Breathing was getting harder, you could see it in the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. You reached out, grasping his hand right and bringing it to your lips, kissing his knuckles. He glanced at you, a brief look of sorrow flickering through his eyes before he turned back to Dustin.

“No, you’re gonna do that yourself!” He was sniffling now, anger and sadness rushing through him in a storm of grief.

“Nah, man, say I’m gonna look after them.” His voice was raspy and low, though you had to give it to him, he was surprisingly lucid. A part of you wondered if you simply imagined him alive, forced yourself into some sort of twisted delusion to cope with his death.

“Say it.” He was beginning to shake in Dustin’s arms, eyes darting between the younger boy’s face and the red, lightning filled sky. You glanced around, wishing for movement on the forest’s edge that looked wildly familiar. Praying to a God you wouldn’t believe in if Eddie died.

Dustin was sobbing again, “I’m g… I’m gonna look after them.”

Eddie smiled again. “Okay, good, because I think I’m actually gonna graduate.” You jerked your head back to him, ignoring the way your throat seemed to be closing up at the idea. For years, the two of you had agreed that as soon as Eddie graduated, you’d get married and find somewhere outside of Hawkins to live. Now, it seemed that you’d instead be looking for a place to lay him to rest. Tears were in a never ending supply as you cried, stroking the untouched skin on his arm so you wouldn’t cause him any further pain.

“I think it’s my year, Henderson. I think it’s finally my year.” Tears were welling in his eyes, and both you and Dustin were sobbing, Dustin clutching at Eddie like a lifeline. You bit the inside of your cheek, still trying to formulate some plan to get him out of the Upside Down.

“I love you, man.”

“I love you too.”

Eddie turned to you, that comforting spark that was always in his eyes dimming.

“I broke my promise, princess.” You frowned, shaking your head and scooting closer to him. He didn’t need to be thinking about all the things you would miss out on if he died. He needed to be focused on surviving.

“Told you I’d make you a Munson one day,” he choked on the blood gathering in his throat. You couldn’t stifle the sob that worked its way up from your chest. The silver ring he’d given you two months ago was now coated in blood, but you ignored both. It didn’t matter what he promised you if he didn’t fucking live.

“I’m sorry.” Tears finally leaked down his face and his chest began to rise and fall rapidly, that terrible wet, raspy noise sounding from his throat as he struggled to breath his last breaths.

“No, no, no, baby. I love you, stay with me, yeah? You gotta stay with me!”

It didn’t matter. The light in his eyes faded and you let out an inhuman sound, crying out like some sort of wounded animal. The sound of your heartbeat thundered in your ears and it took everything in you not to just lay down and die next to him.

It was dark in your room. You lurched up into a sitting position, a knot in your throat and tears in your eyes. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, but it had been a distant memory these past four weeks. It was your fault, getting too comfortable with the lack of nightmares and panic attacks. Normally they occurred when you weren’t around anyone, allowing you the privacy to calm and collect yourself before going about your life.

It took you a moment to realize you couldn’t actually breathe. You choked, a wounded noise that woke Eddie without you realizing. The room was spinning as you tried to ground yourself, but try as you might, you couldn’t. Nothing seemed to be in focus as a heavy weight pressed itself against your chest, constricting your lungs as you desperately gasped for air. Something gripped your shoulders and it sent you further down in your spiral of panic, sputtering and wheezing as you tried to pull air into your lungs. The grip tightened and you blindly reached out, grasping at the person’s wrists. You swayed, feeling light headed from the lack of oxygen.

It took you far too long to see that it was Eddie leaning in front of you, holding your shoulders. He was repeating your name, though it seemed as though it had risen in volume since he started. You choked, the room still spinning around you. He knelt in front of you, rubbing circles into your skin as you tried to ground yourself. You hiccuped, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face as you slid your hands up his arms and onto his chest. A steady beat thumped under your fingertips and you leaned forward, burying yourself in him as your chest began to open up again. You took in unsteady gulps of air, whimpering at the adrenaline that was coursing through you. It was impossible to tell when you could actually breathe again, but you slumped against Eddie when you could at least draw in a little air, eyes heavy and head pounding. An overall numbness seemed to have taken over.

“Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” Your hands trembled and you shook your head, hating the tears that just kept coming. Eddie cooed at you, rubbing your back and rocking you side to side. It was a good idea to go eat or drink something, but you didn’t know if you had it in you. All you wanted to do was lie in bed, wrapped in Eddie’s arms. You pulled back a little, your inhales still unsteady.

“Can, can I see them?” The words you spoke were nearly lost in the sounds of the box fan in the corner of the room. You refused to make eye contact with him, instead choosing to fiddle with the hem on the collar of his shirt. You wanted to see the scars, see the proof that he was really alive in front of you. Eddie’s hands on your back stopped in their tracks. It was clear to see that your request made him uncomfortable, and your heart broke all over again.

“Don’t worry about it, I wasn't thinking. I’m really sorry.” He nodded and you pulled away further, throwing your legs off the bed and standing on shaky legs. He simply watched you, a frown etched into his face and his brow furrowed. You pressed a kiss to his forehead before walking over to your door.

“I’m going to get some juice, yeah?” The weight in your chest hadn’t lifted quite yet, and you wanted nothing more to curl into a warm, fuzzy blanket and cry until you couldn’t anymore. The floorboards creaked underneath your bare feet as you made your way into the kitchen, opening the fridge with a frown and grabbing the juice on the bottom shelf. Your entire body felt like it was made of Jell-O, your arms weak as you poured the sugary drink into a plastic dup. Leaning heavily against the counter, you sipped on your drink, mind wandering back to your nightmare. At the first memory, your heart began to race again and you closed your eyes, reminding yourself it wasn’t real. Your nightmare wasn’t accurate to what happened. The gang saved Eddie, and that’s what mattered.

A creak of the floor behind you had you whirling around, the juice in your cup nearly spilling onto the floor. Eddie was standing by the kitchen entrance, wringing his hands together and keeping his gaze on the ground. He looked like a wounded puppy, eyes wide and face vulnerable.

“If I show you, promise me you won’t run away?”

You blinked at him, mind reeling. A simple, what, was on the tip of your tongue. It tasted sour as you tried to piece together what the fuck he was saying. The seconds ticked by, Eddie becoming more fidgety as each one passed. You blinked again, the realization hitting you like a bus.

“Oh, fuck.”

He whipped his head up, a look of hurt flashing over his face as he took in your words. He jerked back as if you’d slapped him and you set your cup down and stepped towards him, grabbing his hands and tugging him towards you. He was trembling again. You began to giggle at the situation. God, the two of you were such a disaster. Completely unable to communicate properly.

The look of hurt on his face deepened and you shook your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing again.

“We’re such a mess, aren’t we? Baby, I will never run from you,” you reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Never.” You pulled him towards you and kissed him gently on the mouth. He whimpered at the action, hands leaving yours to grip your hips, nails digging into the fabric of your shorts. The feeling was akin to a burn, searing your flesh as you pressed yourself further into his front. He shuddered as you reached up and gave a short tug of his hair, grinning as you drew back. It was a nice distraction, you thought, kissing him. He was sweet as honey, a taste you would always find yourself longing for.

The two of you wandered back into your room, hands intertwined and bodies flushed. His hands were hesitant as you closed the door and he played with the bottom of his shirt.

You smiled reassuringly, kissing the side of his neck. “Take your time, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He nodded, licking his lips again and tugged his shirt over his head.

Your heart stopped. It was one thing knowing they were there, it was entirely another to finally see them. Your breath caught in your throat and those wretched tears gathered in your eyes again. Eddie shifted from one foot to the other, cracking an uneasy smile and saying, “Like what you see, princess?”

Reaching forward, your fingertips barely graze the untouched skin next to the bat bites. The skin was pink and raised, uneven in texturing and covering so much of his skin. Your eyes trailed over each cluster of bites, starting with the familiar ones on the left side of his face, down to the one of the left side of his neck. You shuffled forward, pressing kisses to each one. He shook every time you did, tears finally escaping once you reached the ones on his right wrist. “I love you, Eddie, you know that right? I’m with you because I want to be.” He bit his lip and nodded furiously, eyes trained on you as you moved to the scars on his chest and abdomen, the scars less healed here. The wounds right above his hips were the deepest, and you could still remember the amount of blood that gushed from them. You moved lower, pressing one simple kiss to his hip bone, right along the tops of his underwear and pants. He took this as a message to remove his pants, the scar on his thigh immediately grasping your attention.

You placed your hands on either side of his upper thighs, lips trailing over the edges of the large injury. “Does this mean you’ll kiss my foot too?” You looked up at him incredulously, snorting at the thought. “Maybe in your dreams, Munson. But there’s no way my mouth is going near your toes.” He laughed out loud at that, tugging at your hand to pull you upwards and towards the bed. You stumbled a little, the backs of your knees coming into contact with your soft sheets. You grabbed onto Eddie to steady yourself, smiling up at him.

“I love you, too, y’know. I’m always going to be right here with you.” You nodded, tugging him closer and kissing on the soft curve of his stomach. Your fingers skimmed the band of his underwear and his skin broke out in goosebumps at the action. Giggling, and a bit desperate to see his reaction, you kissed down his happy trail and over his underwear, lips skimming over his dick. He jolted, a string of curses falling from his mouth. A warm feeling spread across your chest and you realized it no longer felt tight, no longer hurt to breathe. You scooted back on the bed, knees parting as you guided him to hover on top of you. His physical therapy was helping him strengthen his body, and it showed as his muscles twitched and he leaned forward to capture your lips with his. You sighed into the kiss, body pliant as he ran his free hand up your thigh and up to your rib, grazing the underside of your breast. You moaned, arching into his touch and kissing him harder, using your teeth to nibble on his bottom lip. He groaned, rocking his hips against yours. You steadied yourself with his shoulders, nails digging into his warm, flushed skin.

He pulled back, urging you to sit up so he could remove your shirt. The air conditioning felt nice as he tossed your shirt to the other side of the room, trailing kisses down your neck and stomach, licking and nibbling to leave faint purple marks. You leaned back, shimmying out of both your shorts and underwear, shifting when you remember you hadn’t shaved all that recently. Eddie grinned up at you, and you caught a glimpse of a more healed version of him that nearly had you in tears. “You’re beautiful, princess.”

You let out a hum of appreciation as he went back to licking your skin, leaving darker hickies along your hips and thighs. He refused to move further inward, the anticipation building until a whine left your throat. He chuckled against your skin.

You pouted, tugging at his hair and pulling him back up to your lips just to arch your body into his. Just the feeling of him on top of you was dizzying, and you rocked your hips against his hardening erection. He grunted, knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, both of your bodies shuddering. It had been so long since either of you had touched each other or yourselves, and it was beginning to show. He felt like he was going to burst with each roll of your clothed cunt against him. He dropped his head to nuzzle against your neck when you wrapped your legs around his thighs, angling your hips to hit just the right spot against his. A strangled whimper left his lips as his damp underwear dragged against the tip of his dick.

“Fuck, princess, please.”

You tangled one hand in his hair, the slight sting enough to have him jerking hard against you, and the other went to cup him over his underwear, rubbing furiously over his slit. He choked, body trembling as he hurtled towards the edge. Your underwear clung to you almost uncomfortably, the wet spot felt on the back of your hand as you palmed Eddie. Back when you first started dating, he’d been a virgin and you’d only slept with someone once. You both made almost a game out of it, seeing how many ways you could make each other cum before he finally lost his v-card. The first time he’d come from just dry humping was something you’ll never forget, the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as he looked up at you with those wide puppy eyes and the most shy expression you’d ever seen. You’d simply kissed him and giggled a, “that’s hot,” before you let him return the favor.

His hips stuttered as you kept at it, moaning into your skin. You cherished the noise, smirking as you felt the familiar pulsing of his dick in your hand. You gave his hair a sharp tug, baring his neck to you as you quickened the pace of your hand, latching your mouth onto the uninjured part of his throat and sucking hard. He muffled a loud whimper by nearly sinking his teeth into your shoulder, releasing onto your hand.

“Oh-oh fuck-”

You slowed your pace, letting him ride out his orgasm until he collapsed on top of you, whining softly and alling limp. You kissed his temple, ignoring the throbbing in your cunt as he shook in your arms. It always took a few minutes for Eddie to gather himself after cuming. “You’re like, amazing.” He mumbled against your skin. You laughed, rubbing his back.

“How do you want me?” You blinked at him before kissing his sweaty forehead.

“Just want you, baby.” He flushed an even deeper red, his dick twitching against your thigh. He whined in protest.

“Can’t just say it like that.” You grinned, slowly shimmying out from under him so you could straddle his waist. He eyed you curiously, brow furrowing as you urged him onto his back. His hands came to rest on your hips as you tugged off your underwear and pushed his down until they were tangled up at his ankles. His dick was already hardening again, and you threw a leg over his hips to grind against him. He hissed at the sensitive feeling, unconsciously bucking up against you. You leaned forward, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hand and kissing him hard, trying to convey your feelings in the action. He reached between you to feel how wet you were, groaning at the slickness as he began to gently rub your clit. You whined, keeping up your pace until he was fully hard. The tip of his dick was flushed a pretty pink, and your mouth watered at the idea of finally feeling full of him again.

Eddie watched you with half hooded eyes, moving his hand away from your clit to guide his dick between your folds. You lifted your hips to position yourself before slowly sinking down on him, eyes rolling to the back of your head and nearly keening. Eddie’s head fell back and he squeezed his eyes shut as he bottomed out. You lifted your hips and then dropped yourself back down, creating a pace that would have the both of you falling apart fast and hard. Eddie nearly writhed beneath you, still sensitive from his last orgasm. You moaned at the feeling of fullness, settling your hands on to the backs of your ankles to deepen the angle. Sure enough, he began to hit a spot that had you seeing stars, starbursts of pleasure bursting behind your eyes as he met your own thrusts.

He reached down to toy with your clit again, body jerking as you clenched hard around him. Your walls were beginning to flutter and he groaned, knowing you were approaching your peak. Eddie began to alternate between circling your clit and moving side to side, loving the way he could make you fall apart. The knot in your stomach was tightening, leaving you to rock your hips against his in reckless abandon. You were desperate, single-minded as you chased your high. The knot inside of you snapped and your walls clamped around Eddie’s dick, thighs tightening around his waist. The feeling had Eddie tumbling over the edge once again. He pulled you to him, smashing your lips against his as you both moaned loudly. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your orgasm, body tingling and mind hazy.

“Love you so, so much.”

Eddie was nearly incoherent, mumbling whatever he was thinking over and over and you came down from your high, and you stared at him with nothing but adoration.

You pressed a kiss to his chin before burying your face in his neck.

“I love you too, baby.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in your smell and sighing in contentment. As he tightened his arms around you, a wave of contentment washed over you, as well as intense exhaustion.

“Promise me we’ll talk more about what happened? We won’t push each other away?” Eddie kissed the crown of your head as he thought about your words. He knew deep down that the two of you couldn’t keep going like this, otherwise you would lose each other. You tilted your head upward, scanning his face as he was deep in thought. The edges of his lips were tugged into a frown and you reached up to cup his cheek.

“I can’t live like this anymore, baby. Please.”

He sighed and looked down at you. An expression of doubt crossed his face before he nodded. “You might hear things that you won’t like.”

You knew all too well what he was referring to. The idea of ending it all had crossed your mind more than once these past few months, but you’d reached out to your friends to help you with it.

“I know. But I need you to talk to me.” He nodded in return and laid back on the bed, relaxing his body as he held you close.

“I promise.”

+++

tagged:

@mattefic

[runawaymun]

So I have written a lot about food and food insecurity in the aftermath of trauma and I focused mainly on Maedhros, Húrin (who there is actually some canon examples with), and Morwen (a different kind of trauma) and I know you posted some about Maedhros too so I was wondering if you had thoughts on how this affected Celebrían. I really love all your ideas and writing on her and I had some of my own thoughts but I wanted to ask!

-@outofangband (sorry if this is disorganized, I wrote it right after waking up)

aaaaaa!

@outofangband 

Thank you for the opportunity to ramble about this!

Buckle up. This ain't a fun one, guys. And it's so so so long.

CW: discussions of suicidal ideation, force-feeding, eating disorders, & unhealthy relationships with food due to trauma under the cut.

Celebrían post-torment kind of lives rent-free in my brain. It actually really bugs me how little I see of her in the fandom from this period in her life, and usually when I do see content about this it's about how her torment affected Elrond which is very unfair to her. It's her trauma, after all.

I tend to describe Celebrían's relationship with food post-torment with three words: repulsion, obsession, and disinterest. (Unlike, say, Maedhros where I would describe his relationship with food post-Angband as being characterized mostly by insecurity, anxiety, and compulsion).

In regards to Cel, let's talk about repulsion first.

Food Repulsion

The issue of Cel's repulsion to food post-torment is really complex. The first and simplest part is that it's strictly biological. I really don't think she was given much to eat during her torment that would have actually agreed with her. When the body goes for extended periods of time without food, the stomach shrinks and becomes very sensitive, and it takes a while for it to acclimate to digesting things again. This also feeds into disinterest-- it was genuinely hard for her to want anything to eat when she was ill post-torment-- in the "nothing sounds agreeable and everything I eat makes me nauseous" sort of way.

And then there's the less fun aspect of why I suspect she has repulsion to food post-torment, and that comes down to force-feeding.

Tolkien mentions (I think) more than once instances of orcs force-feeding disagreeable substances to their captives. Chiefly I'm thinking of Merry & Pippin and the weird "orc draught" the Uruk-hai gave them. I can't think of any other specific instances currently off the top of my head, but I remember reading that part as a kid and being viscerally disgusted and freaked out, and that part still haunts me every time I read it. Force-feeding is such an intense form of psychological control. I'm thinking of the times during the women's suffrage movement when women went on hunger strikes and then were force-fed with tubes/funnels. It's a violation of bodily autonomy. It's even worse when you're being forced to consume a substance which may have an altering effect.

And it's clear from the scene with Merry & Pippin that the orc draught had an altering effect and tbh I always read it as being something the orcs enjoyed doing.

And just in general, orcs seem to enjoy torture and infliction of distress. So firstly, I believe Cel was force-fed this orc-draught, seeing as it has an "invigorating" effect and possibly would have essentially made her last longer to be toyed with and tortured. Secondly, I think they probably force-fed her some gross stuff (i.e. stuff orcs like eating. Raw flesh/blood etc.) because they found her reaction funny.

So naturally, this is traumatic, and naturally, Cel isn't really going to have an appetite for anything but, perhaps, water when the twins get her home.

It was very difficult for Elrond to get her to take any medicines. She logically knows this is her husband and that he's very safe and that he's trying to help her, but Cel isn't going to want anything that may alter her mental or physical state. On top of that, being fed anything is going to be triggering. This is made especially worse in the very likely event that during her early recovery she has to be fed, which is re-traumatizing.

This is distressing for everyone around her, obviously, especially Elrond who is only trying to help. This is especially distressing for Cel because she knows, she knows that everyone is trying to help her and that she has to eat to stay alive, but the act of swallowing has become so utterly traumatic that it probably sets off a gag reflex and causes her to vomit most (if not all) of what she's being given.

This takes a long time to work through.

-

Obsession (and Compulsion)

Okay let's talk about obsession. For Cel, the repulsion actually feeds into the later obsessive and compulsive behaviors which she develops to cope with her repulsion and anxiety. This is going to be a shorter section because I just don't want to linger on this for very long.

Once she is able to keep food and medicine down, she develops an obsession around making sure she knows exactly what she is eating and exactly how much she is eating. She doesn't develop a hoarding issue like Maedhros did. She begins to pick apart and count everything she's eating. It takes hours to finish even the smallest meals. As this progresses she refuses to eat anything that she hasn't seen prepared in front of her or she hasn't prepared herself. She isn't being intentionally difficult, it's that the anxiety around not knowing what's in her food makes her physically ill & makes her reflexively vomit.

This carries over into Valinor.

She doesn't eat at group functions anymore. She doesn't eat meals with others anymore. She is aware that her behavior doesn't make sense, that it's "strange", that it's unhealthy. She has a great deal of shame around this that she can't manage to get rid of. Very few people in Valinor understand this trauma and she has no desire to talk about it. So she just doesn't socially eat anymore. It's very isolating.

This eases with time and intentional help and work. Again, I'm not sure if she ever really heals herself of this anxiety. That shit lingers with you.

-

Disinterest

Now let's talk about disinterest.

This may seem to be in conflict with obsession, but it's not.

This goes hand-in-hand with her repulsion, but mostly it's caused by intense depression, and is a problem that gets worse and worse in the months leading up to her departure.

As it becomes more and more clear that Cel just....isn't getting better, she really begins to feel guilty, I think, of the toll that she's taking on her family. She feels like a burden. She doesn't want to cause them any more distress. She is tired and ill and sick at heart.

So as things progress, she just...eats less and less. Part of this is because she just hates food and hates what it makes her feel and hates the distress all of her trauma around food causes everyone around her, and a good chunk comes down to the nausea and visceral repulsion.

The other part is that she just...

doesn't want to be here anymore.

And Elrond just will not let her go. He's trying so hard to help her heal. And Cel feels guilty because that's really unfair of her, she feels, to not work so hard herself when he is putting his entire being into saving her.

This is when their marriage bond starts to fracture (I don't think it ever broke entirely, but I think there was a moment where they were on the verge). Intentionally, on Cel's part. She doesn't want to cause him pain. She starts distancing her from him as much as she can.

And this is when she really, truly stops eating.

Because she can't bear to tell him that she wants to die. How could she do that to him? When he's doing everything he can to save her? Literally giving her pieces of himself? I headcannon he was using Vilya as a last resort, here, at risk to himself. It's literally breaking him and Cel can't bear that. Not when she just feels numb. She doesn't feel like she's worth saving and she doesn't know how to ask him to stop trying.

So she just...stops eating.

And she withers and withers and withers.

And she begins to fade.

And that's when Elrond truly starts to panic.

I think there's a moment where he asks her, very bluntly, if she wants to die.

And Celebrían very quietly says yes.

And I think that destroys him.

I think it's Celeborn, actually, over everyone that suggests that she sails. Because there's really nothing else to be done. Either she sails, or she fades. Maybe she fades anyway. Either way, no one can save her except Celebrían herself.

And there is one tiny feeble spark somewhere deep inside Celebrían that wants to live. So she tells her husband, and her mother, and her father, and her children goodbye, and she leaves everything she has ever known to sail to a place she's only heard about in her bedtime stories.

Does she ever fully recover from any of this?

No, I don't think she does. I don't think her appetite every fully comes back to her. I think she's always just a little too-thin. I think she still has a difficult time eating with others. I think she just can't eat certain foods anymore. But she manages, and she heals, and she lives. That's the important part. That's what matters.

Despite it all, Celebrían lives.

[eriexplosion]

Poking curiously at some Star Wars Rebels stuff because I like to Obtain Information even on parts I haven't gotten to yet. Mostly looking at Wolffe though and how apparently years after getting his chip removed he still has the impression that the Jedi betrayed them. When we see Wrecker and Rex it seems like their chips being removed let them get pretty much right back to normal, but theirs also weren't active for that long before being taken out. Maybe the longer the chip is on for the more of an impact it leaves on thought patterns and the harder it is to get back from it?

Anyway this is very relevant to Crosshair who not only had his chip active for at least half the series but also had it actively boosted and tampered with. Possibly multiple times since we see him getting up from a second procedure at the start of episode 3 just before being sent to Onderon, where he was noticeably even colder than the end of Aftermath.

Like at this point it seems like it's kind of irrelevant that his chip is out, yes he's 'making his own decisions' more than he was before this, and we see this through his uh. Creative interpretation of what counts as still following orders. But that doesn't mean he's. Actually making choices fully of his own free will. If the chip actively alters thought processes even after its removed though then it does explain why even as he slowly gets more of himself back he's still trying to steer towards the Empire even when it's clearly a bad idea.

I actually do like this interpretation because things like having free will completely wrestled away would cause huge changes regardless, the trauma of it cannot be overstated, but having it be an actual scar on his thought processes would make it a little easier to show to a younger audience like TBB is meant for without having to stop and define the concept of trauma for them. It shifts it from the idea that he can be Fixed with a quick surgery to him needing to be given the opportunity to heal from what was done to him.

I do hope they work with this in season 2 in a satisfying way even if we obviously can't get a whole show of Soldiers Talking About Their Feelings. We didn't get 30 shots of him looking hurt and lost post-Bracca to not get him some goddamn help.

[maschotch]

Bro your brain when it comes to emily!! I remember thinking to myself how different emily seemed after everything that happened with foyet, even just in the aftermath of 5x01. She’s the one that finds hotch, she’s the one that sees her unbendable boss, a man who never breaks, in a hospital bed, hanging onto his life. She’s the one that asks him what actually happened, and I think to an extent, she knows he’s lying when he says he doesn’t remember much. They’re much more similar then most people give them credit for, they’re both fantastic at compartmentalizing their trauma, about being able to lie easily that they’re ok.

I think she sees herself in hotch here, and if he breaks, so can she.

Because if he is fallible, so is she.

So that’s why her vibe seems off in season five, as you said, she takes on his rage. I always thought it was an interesting choice for her to be so angry at the unsub in 5x10. Not only did it drag her away from Haley’s funeral, an intimate, mourning event for hotch, but it also connected back to foyet. This man violated people, ruined and ended lives because he could.

Broke what should be infallible.

(Also yet again an interesting parallel between foyet and s*xual assault)

This whole arc changes emily, whether it was actually intentional or not. Everything she thought she knew, everything she became comfortable with, was gone. This image she had of hotch was destroyed by a sick man like foyet, by all the sick guys out there who take away all that is good in the world......

my brain is completely void of anything but correct criminal minds takes akdhskhd

i think she does see a lot of herself in hotch. they’ve been like that from the start—part of why they butted heads so often in the beginning. but i think her anger and defensiveness doesnt come from worrying ab herself and her own weaknesses: i think she feels it so strongly because she knows hotch wont

bc ur so right. they really are similar. they prioritize the job over any emotional rawness, and they’re experts at compartmentalizing because of it. they’ll push down whatever’s bothering them to focus on the task. bc its not a skill they’ve picked up recently: they’ve been doing this since they were kids. hotch learning to smile in spite of the beatings, emily gritting her teeth and maintaining the perfect image of a diplomats daughter (she eventually gave up caring about the facade and enjoyed pissing off her mom, but she still knows how to keep quiet, how to manipulate)

the problem is that when you bury your emotions that deep, you eventually start to hide them from yourself. their experiences and perceptiveness makes jt easy to identify when others are struggling, but its hard to see that within themselves. for their chosen career its effective, but its unhealthy. and no one knows that better than them. which is why i think they understand each other so well: they recognize that sometimes they just dont want to talk about it bc they cant talk about it.

(they apply their abilities in different ways to varying degrees of success, but that just goes to show how their individual experiences alters the application of their empathy. emily is good at discerning what someone needs: if they need to talk, if they need a distraction, if they need company, or if they just need to be left alone. hotch, on the other hand, takes the standoffish approach with everyone, regardless of circumstances. he’s very aware of the mental/emotional state of the team, but its rare that he’ll intervene. which makes sense considering their histories. emily’s specialty is manipulation, requiring observation and interaction. hotch doesnt necessarily have that ability. he’s a little too self deprecating to realize he can actually help; he just thinks he’ll make it worse)

ANYWAY all this to say emily is very aware of hotch’s emotional state and his habitual resistance to processing what he’s gone through. bc she does the same thing. so her protectiveness manifests a different way than morgan and the others, who focus on external threats. emily knows that the internal conflicts can scar him more than any knife if he lets it.

she knows the limitations of their attempts to help. she knows hotch wont let himself connect with his emotions so directly as well as she knows herself. and it makes her angry. she gets more upset about his suffering than she would be for own. probably more than anyone else’s, honestly, if only because she knows hes not gonna do anything about it. without even realizing it she absorbs all his passion and rage and sorrow and channels it in ways she hasnt expressed in a long time. she’s always done well maintaining an air of control, no matter what the situation. more so than hotch tbh. which is why its seemingly so out of character for something like this to affect her this much.

its not like her anger will help him grieve or process anything or move on. thats something he has to do for herself. but its almost like.. catharsis by proxy. neither of them have outlets for their emotions anymore bc they’ve trained themselves out of any kind of outward expression of emotion (emily more than hotch but still). so seeing emily losing it a bit, the way he wants to, makes it easier to connect to his own feelings. she’s feeling it for him, and the visual reference is a reminder that its ok to struggle. its ok to have a hard time. its ok to not be perfect.

[helena-thessaloniki]

Hi Helena! Big fan of your writing here🥺♥️ Your rivamika fics are my safe space 😭 (if you have time to answer) i’d love to know when you first started shipping them, why, and what made you continue to love this ship (or anything else to do with your journey as an RM shipper)? i love your characterisation of both levi and mikasa individually, but even more so, your portrayal of their dynamic as a couple, which is why i wanted to ask so badly ☺️ x

Hey anon! Oh woah, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, oh god, you probably shouldn't have handed me the mic. heh 😅

I’m afraid to look at the word count of this response, I’m sure it’s much more than you bargained for, but I appreciate the question and enjoyed thinking through my response (: Most importantly, I’m so glad you find my stories as a safe space. It’s really an honor. Thank you for sharing with me 🖤🖤

TL; DR As a longtime reader, writer and lover of stories and story-telling, by being someone who pays attention to how stories are crafted and deliberately developed from beginning to end, I sincerely thought Isayama was setting up rivamika as an endgame relationship. So, I read into and interpreted meaning out of ALL their interactions and became deeply invested.

I don’t necessarily ship them cause of the parallels, age gap, enemies to lover trope, height difference, or some of those common reasons and/or kinks. I’m more basic and boring than that. I love the concept of them coming together as though it’s inevitable.

They both are unbelievably strong, selfless, and have suffered so much loss— so, no one else could truly understand them as well as they can understand each other. They both probably would have always settled for a stable, simple life, and been alone and lonely even without realizing it— instead, they find each other, and realize what it means to actually no longer be alone, to do more than just survive. It’s this understated bond, as opposed to a dramatic and passionate romance, that I envision in them and that I love so much.

Then, the passion, heat, the romantic "spark"— I think that’s an added bonus, the cherry on top, the perfect final puzzle piece. They’re both so physically capable, can speak through their actions, and don’t show much need or capacity for emotional/ verbal communication, so the ability to connect with each other through physical intimacy and mind-blowing sex seems like another given.

Still, at the end of the day, for me it comes back to their ability to fully depend on each other, to the inevitability. Not like some soulmate trope where they 'have no choice' in it, but like the stars aligned to prove it's right. How each of them have only one other person on the whole planet who could see and understand them, to be on par with them, to make them realize there’s more to life than settling and surviving, and they happen to find it in each other.

You asked, I rambled 😅 Here’s a breakdown of my thought process in my rivamika journey. For those who make it to the end or want to skip to the end, I'll finish with the excerpt of the very first rivamika scene I felt compelled to to write.

I've tried before to re-watch and remember the exact scenes, exact moments, that initially captured my full attention, but I guess it was all of them, the gradual and cumulative compilation of their earliest interactions.

Mikasa always appearing cool and indifferent, and paying no attention whatsoever to others fawning over, like Jean initially falling for her, but then her strongly reacting over Levi in the courtroom showed how uniquely capable he was at getting under her skin.

Of course, the scene in the forest chasing the Female Titan was a critical one. I think of that as the first time both Levi and Mikasa were truly able to see the other's strength, mental and physical. And for them, orphans and trauma survivors who have suffered extensive loss, I think that seeing strength in another person made them feel less alone. Less alone in a deep, quiet but cataclysm, life-altering sort of way, even if not a romantic one. Like they didn't know it was something they didn't have, something they didn't expect to get from life, but then found it with each other.

(Even when we found out Levi was an Ackerman, I was disappointed if it meant they were immediate relatives, but willing to accept it wouldn't be a romantic end to loneliness, it would be a familial end to loneliness. But... the author never explored that. Not once.)

In that forest scene, manga and anime, the way that Levi pauses to really look and see Mikasa and think about who she is, what she’s gone through, and how strong and dedicated she is now— that was a defining moment. It was also a visual demonstration of Levi breaking character, from aloof and ruthless, to considering and curious. I thought Yams was showing both of them do that on purpose.

Then, Levi getting hurt because of Mikasa in that scene felt like another clue. Sure, it was while saving Eren, and sure, it could have been meant to humanize super-soldier Levi, or sure, it could have been another aspect of how Mikasa rushing into things over Eren ends up hurting other people that later changes in her character development, but it felt like a very pointed statement about Mikasa being a vulnerability for Levi. And that's swoon-worthy, right? Most of us have been exposed to and conditioned by stories about how special and romantic it is to be the one and only girl who can make an otherwise disinterested or unattainable guy actually pay attention to her, and so admittedly I fall right for it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty, but the opening of season 3 felt like confirmation. When Levi figures out Kenny's behind things and entrusts Mikasa with instructions to share with the others, instructions about fighting people instead of titans that ultimately everyone else besides her struggles with, and when Mikasa lets Levi hold her back from chasing after Eren, her most important way of trusting and having faith in Levi, I honestly took that as cues from the author that rivamika was endgame. I let myself get truly invested from then on. That’s that understated bond I was referring to. To me, that unspoken but undeniable trust is the most important dynamic.

Seeing them fight together or fight similarly has always been fun and powerful and fulfilling.

I'm newer to the snk club. I was originally an anime-only fan and started watching in fall 2019, I think. I wasn't on tumblr, twitter, or anything else to see fandom discourse. So, I didn't know that the rooftop scene of Mikasa fighting Levi over the serum was such a staple for our ship until much later. I love the scene just like many do for all the reasons we do, but I don't think the actual scene was pivotal for me, so much as it's aftermath. I thought it represented two things.

One, it was an important marker in Levi's characterization. Hands-down one of the most striking scenes to me is the one where Levi is in the alley, somber and alone, listening in on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa talking together. It artfully shows his longing for hope and connection. So, when Levi chose Armin for the serum, that represented Levi choosing hope. And when Mikasa ultimately gave up fighting Levi and didn't choose Armin, which Armin finds out about later on, I see that as an important marker in Mikasa's development. It puts a wedge between her and Armin/Eren [Armin, because he knows she would have let him die, and Eren, because Armin is too special to him and he couldn't look at her the same way after realizing she would have let him die]. That distance between her and her childhood friends is one I don't think could ever be healed completely, one of those painful lessons in growing up. By doing that, it then also puts a distance in Mikasa's own childhood self to her current self. I thought that matured her and separated her out in a way that was another clue toward eventual rivamika developments.

That's a whole other conversation on Mikasa, but I’ll stay on track. Her love for Armin was absolutely authentic and fierce, but at the end of the day, at the core of her being, she chose survival over hope. Meanwhile, Levi chose hope over survival. To me, that was soft, fertile ground for the reasons why eventually, if/when Mikasa found hope and chose hope, that could directly tie together with her inevitably in coming together with Levi. Again, less butterflies and fireworks, but more natural and in a way that was just a given.

I wrote Beyond the Walls before reading the manga from the Marley Arc and on, so that's why most of that story is her journey into embracing that hope. *manga spoilers* There's a lot of meta, criticism and talk about Mikasa's silent, off-screen and subtle style of character development in the Marley Arc and afterward. I won't go down that road, I'm still processing the end of the manga to be honest, but I think it's fair to say she does eventually end up choosing hope over survival when she lets go of Eren and saves humanity instead. I love the “Stay with Me” line and think it’s perfect; a simple but profound display of trust and their deep-rooted bond in a really understated way. *end manga spoilers*

Here's something I always wanted to talk about in full but haven't. It honestly reads to me like Yams was building toward rivamika, and didn’t do anything to stop that until too late. There are tools authors can use to ensure we stop shipping a pair or start shipping a new one; love triangles are commonly used in every artistic medium and we’ve all been persuaded by these tools. But Yams didn’t use these tools to make sure readers didn’t feel convinced by rivamika. For all the reasons I listed above, more I'm forgetting, and for the following:

If he wanted us to think they were family and it would be incest, he should have added in a conversation between them realizing they were (close) family and that they weren't the only ones left in their biological family like they thought. But he didn't.

If he wanted us to think it was completely inappropriate between a child-and-adult and student-and-teacher, then he could have done something to ensure Mikasa looked childish or Levi looked older, but no. They barely look ten years apart. I do think it's unacceptable and that there's a power imbalance between a child-and-adult relationship regardless of that, and that there can't be true consent when one is a superior and another a subordinate, so I personally age-up Mikasa in my head and try to handle his position of power responsibly in my writings... but the point being, by the end of canon, there's no inappropriate or non-consensual romance between them, yet there's a lot of history and chemistry that could naturally lead to an age-appropriate and consensual relationship. If Yams didn't want us to think so, he could have made it more clear that there were reasons it wouldn't happen.

The only thing that makes sense to me is the author planned on rivamika endgame but was shamed/pressured out of it (either internally or due to others) OR that the author somehow accidentally created such vibrant chemistry and an incredible dynamic between them. Like, he didn't put enough convincing substance of eremika in, didn't make Levi look old enough, didn’t have one of them do something unforgivable in the other’s eyes, etc. Those are some of those tools he could have used. Romance was never a key component in snk. And since we now know Yams planned or needed eremika endgame for sake of plot and the conclusion of the manga, I personally think he didn't know what to do with the riveting rivamika substance and chemistry being much more convincing to readers. Once he had them so well built-up, maybe the only option he felt he had was to just stop putting the characters together. We get little-to-no rivamika interaction, platonic or practical, after season 3 all the way up until the very end. But there was so much of it beforehand ?? So, it simply doesn't make sense. I think the author just straight-up cut any and all interactions out between them because it was too convincing and moving, more convincing and substantial than eremika. But, as the end of canon shows, we needed to have some eremika buy-in. It's messy writing and unskilled in the romance department, but considering for how long and how complicated snk has been in a creative process and how lackluster the eremika romance (the main and apparently pivotal romance) is developed, I think it’s plausible to say the author effed up.

As far as writing fanfiction goes, there's just so much room to explore them. In canon, we aren't given enough insight into their individual perspectives, let alone their dynamic together, so it feels like a blank canvas to work from. I think that's part of why I love to write them, and also why I don't necessarily read much of them. When I first started shipping them while watching the anime, I read a few of the classics that were canon-verse, but I haven’t really read much since. For me, exploring and discovering them as a writer is the most fun. (It's one of the reasons Naruto and Harry Potter have such large fanfiction collections. There's so much world-building and so many characters, but there's also so much left to the imagination.)

In general, I'm drawn to strong characters, especially women, who are multidimensional enough to be real, vulnerable and soft. Mikasa is the pinnacle of that. I don’t necessarily like to write about her love or infatuation with Eren, but I do respect and admire and consider it integral to her character and her amazing capacity to love. We can have strong, kickass women who falter when it comes to love but are still considered strong for it. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and Mikasa is a beautiful example of that.

And Levi is strong, but real and vulnerable too; he’s honestly a fantastically developed character, from Petra explaining to Eren in the beginning how he’s not the amazing hero he’s painted to be to the public, to how Levi genuinely cares for Erwin and others and chooses hope despite all he’s suffered.

The end of the manga wrecked me a bit. Kind of like Games of Thrones. You have something that was so epic and well-done for so long, a rushed ending that isn't immediately sensical and isn't fulfilling is hard to stomach. Eventually, I'll move on from the denial of that and process what I think and feel about it. The whole reason we have fanfiction is to expand on canon, but it's made me put rivamika on the back burner until I figure it out. So I'm a little less hyper-fixated on the pairing right now even though interacting with you all and asks like this remind me what brought me here in the first place. 😊

To conclude, I’ll share that the very first rivamika content I wrote was a compilation of moments I thought could be inserted into season 3. These are still moments I plan to edit and publish one day. For anyone that actually read this far, I’ll put a rough and unedited excerpt of the first scene I ever wrote about them.

Thank you again anon 🖤😊

BEGIN EXCERPT [after the rooftop fight for the serum, immediately following the ceremony where Eren touched Historia by kissing her hand]:

Part of her was embarrassed at such a flagrant act of disobedience to a superior, especially to one who saved her and countless others' lives in the past. But mostly, she was anguished by the situation Captain Levi put her in once he revoked the serum meant to save Armin and planned to use it on Commander Erwin instead. Her current ostracization and self-loathing was not entirely her own fault. Anger she felt toward herself was just as easy to wield against him.

It must have shown in the grit of her teeth or defiant tone, because he turned to look at her, more aloof than curious.

Like a flint struck to steel, it ignited the fury she felt toward him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just killed you,” she answered him at last, piercing him with eyes darker than the night.

He wasn’t concerned. “You’re good, but not that good.”

Her hands fell to her side, fists clenched as she stood with a single, fluid movement. Before she could let loose a threat, he sighed.

“What’s the problem, Ackerman?” He was dismissive, his shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

The fire too furious to contain, she went sailing for him with the same speed from the battlefield. Her fingers already curled, she tightened her grasp as she swung her fist into his gods-damned apathetic face.

Levi wasn’t unprepared. He easily side-stepped her, then snatched her wrist to steal her momentum. Though he tried to toss her aside, she was no less fast; Mikasa dug her heel in and spun, her other arm shoving hard into his chest.

Too graceful to stumble, Levi used the chance to hook her second arm too. He caged both her wrists in a grip so strong, she was sure it bruised her bones. Still, he only looked at her warily, almost bored.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I chose Armin.” If his reminder was meant to ease her anger, it had the opposite effect.

Fury and desperation gifted her additional strength. She shoved into his chest hard. Levi shifted backward, nearly forced into loosening his grip; within that split second of an opening, Mikasa slammed her elbow into his chin, rocking his head backward.

“You did,” she seethed, but as fast as the fire inside her exploded, it was doused. Her next words came out broken and damp. “But I didn’t.”

Levi remained stern and otherwise unmoving as he attempted to flex his jaw through the spasm of pain. As the momentum of the fight died down, he loosened his hold on her wrists and evaluated her distraught frame.

Mikasa immediately released her own hands and turned away from him, eyes stinging from tears she refused to shed as she focused on the stars ahead. Admitting the harsh words aloud hurt her far more than any injury she could inflict onto him.

Not only was Armin one of the only friends she had, but he’d been a steadfast one throughout almost all she could remember of her life. After the trauma of her childhood, it was Eren and Armin who embraced her, whom she learned to love. Now, though, there was a wedge between her and Armin she was not sure could ever be removed. What was worse, as deplorable and selfish as she knew it proved her to be, was the painful wedge it now put between her and Eren too.

Once again, she found Levi standing at the peripheral of her sight, close enough to see but far enough to be a blur at the edge of her watery vision.

“You almost killed me.” Levi repeated his earlier words, but he said them with an odd bite, torn between frustration and patience. “You would have killed me to save him.”

Too late, Mikasa realized he hadn’t meant these words as an accusation, but an odd form of validation. She bit her bottom lip, teeth puncturing too hard; the tang of metal was sharp on her tongue when she swallowed blood.

“You thought about letting your closest friend die,” Levi said quietly, tiredly. “But I did let mine die. I left him for dead, when I could have saved him.”

Mikasa was startled from her selfish reverie, for the first time acknowledging the sacrifice he made on that fateful afternoon. She’d been too absorbed in her own relief, and then, her own regrets to consider what the decision had done to him.

For a brief moment, she considered turning to face him, but the stark reality of the matter made her refrain. How could she feel pity for his loss, when his loss enabled her gain? An uncomfortable knot tightened in her stomach.

“Tch,” Levi sighed. He was only one notch less taciturn, but for him, that was soft. “You’ll live with your guilt, and I’ll live with mine.”

His words granted Mikasa’s tears the permission to spill. She buried her face further into her scarf, both hands trembling at the worn threads. As quietly as he arrived onto the roof, Levi disappeared from it.

.

.

It was rare for him to indulge in alcohol or celebrations, but Erwin’s absence felt more tangible than his presence ever did. Levi distracted himself with the chaos of the few remaining Scouts that Erwin had died entrusting his legacy to, and attempted to drown the pain with whatever drink Connie Springer shoved into his hands.

He found Hanji with their ale long-forgotten about on the table as they half-stood from their seat, frantic while explaining some morbid experiment in great, vivid detail to an unsuspecting and slightly horrified MP officer.

Though Levi wordlessly took the seat beside them, Hanji paused their rant to slap him hard on the back, an enthusiastic greeting flying from their drunken lips. The MP took this chance to excuse himself, a pathetic attempt at politeness, but Hanji either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“Ah, Levi,” they smiled at his drink, though it didn’t entirely reach their one eye. “Where you been?”

Levi didn’t answer. “You know, shitty-glasses, you’re even more unbearable about your experiments when you’re drunk.”

Hanji waved dismissively and reached for their ale. Years spent in battle and command together had gifted both of them with an eased familiarity, and sometimes, genuine friendship. In the same manner he ignored their question, Hanji ignored his lack of response and went on with their original inquiry.

“Careful, Captain,” Hanji warned lightly. “Now that there’s far fewer Scouts, you having a favorite might cause some division.”

Even though Hanji meant the words, there was a glint of mischief that twinkled in their remaining eye.

“It’s not favoritism,” Levi countered bluntly, turning his vision toward the young man on the far side of the room. “Eren is simply the best chance that we have in this war.”

Hanji laughed as if he’d made a joke and Levi looked back to stare at them, unable to be surprised at their quirks or oddities any longer, but still a touch curious about what spurned this current demonstration.

“I wasn’t talking about Eren,” Hanji said at last, a pointed nod toward his injured chin.

Levi blinked. He didn’t realize he was nursing his injury with the hand not on his drink. As though it were too hot to touch, Levi dropped his hand.

Hanji was not judgmental, nor inquisitive. In a war-torn life of losing too many cadets entrusted to him, the fact that Levi found a soldier with the strength and skill to remain safe was not only rare, but worth special attention. Still, it made him too lenient.

“Sometimes I think you’d let her get away with murder,” Hanji chided halfheartedly.

When he thought of Erwin dead in his grasp, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he already had.

[guardianspirits13]

Ending and Rescue

Alright so in light of my last comic, which you can find here, I have some thoughts about the Ending situation.

Ignoring the complicated relationship between Natsuo and Endeavor, the battle is kind of a microcosm of all the things wrong with the celebrity-type hero society.

Disclaimer: I understand that this is not the main plot of the story and Hori can't show the aftermath of a battle every time (he does a great job with it post-war arc) but because I'm worried for Natsuo I'm gonna go off anyways.

My problem with the Ending battle mostly boils down to how Endeavor handled the aftermath. While his ‘discussion’ with Natsuo in 252 needed to happen, it did not need to happen literally moments after an extremely traumatic experience sitting in the middle of the road.

Once Natsuo is safe he is literally in shock and can’t really process much of what’s going on around him. It takes him a full minute or two to even process that Endeavor is touching him.

Upon him pulling away, Endeavor does not spare a second in trying to justify his actions. Honestly I could care less that he wasn’t involved in the battle itself, but launching into an entire monologue directly related to Natsuo’s prior trauma?

Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’d assume psychologically that if someone with previous trauma experiences a new, separate trauma, it’s probably not a good idea to connect those two events anymore by bringing up said past trauma after another traumatic event.

Let’s do a quick rundown of what Natsuo experienced that evening:

He had been abducted for at least an hour before the confrontation. Of course nobody expected anything but they still sit down for tea and say their goodbyes before piling in the car which gives us a good sense of time.

Natsuo was in the clutches of an unstable, recently released villain with no concern for eiter of their lives and jacked up on illegal quirk drugs like a cherry on top.

As a side note, this is one of my leading points of evidence as to why Natsuo is quirkless, because self-defense with a quirk is legal, and if he had an ice quirk it would have been perfect for the job.

After being in captivity, he was exploited as a hostage and not only had his life threatened but also came VERY close to death or a least life-altering injury.

So after experiencing all that, you’d think it would be good to give him some space and medical treatment, but instead Endeavor provokes him and like, no wonder he ends up in tears. I don’t care if Endeavor’s intentions were good, that was clearly not the time.

I could give him the benefit of the doubt and say this talk needed to happen now for narrative reasons, but because it’s Endeavor I’m not cutting him any slack.

So after this talk Ending starts screaming again and Endeavor just leaves him there??? In the middle of the road??

It’s not shown, but I really really hope that there were paramedics on the scene that checked up on him both physically and psychologically. He seems to have an abrasion on his head and could very likely have a concussion from being thrown around, not to mention his mental state.

The next few times we see him also make me worried for him because it’s presumably not long after that we see him at the train station and then back at home again, and he seems fine...ish.

Idk about you but I don’t think most people would snap back from a near-death experience so quickly, I’d say he’s definitely burying his emotions.

Anyways one majorly overlooked facet of the problems with this celebrity-like, statistics-based hero society is that is does not benefit the hero to stay and help and do rescue in any way.

We know that Hawks zooms through villain attacks and leaves his sidekicks to do the dirty work (although this isn't entirely his fault since he probably knew nothing other than what the Commission taught him)

We saw that one hero quit once he saw the aftermath of the war arc and saw all the pain. The real caveat here us that the overlooked half of the 'Hero' profession is saving people and rescue training, which is often pushed aside in favor of ranking and publicity.

Going back to Natsuo, it's kinda poetic that he's training to be a hero in a traditional sense as a med student somewhere in the area of psychiatry, and he does so while disapproving of the Hero profession.

I know this is long but these are just some of my thoughts about the situation. I do have an entire meta here where I go more in depth about Natsuo's trauma specifically, and I have a couple simila metas in progress so keep an eye out for those as well!!!

(@moriphyte I see u! I'll get to your ask next, it's very long lol)