#rape and rape recovery

[desultory-suggestions]

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

[c0l0re]

You know sometimes it's easy to forget or minimize how much progress you've made, but please never forget that any amount of progress at all is objectively good and worth being proud of

I used to not be able to stand not wearing several layers of clothing constantly no matter where I was and regardless of the weather after being raped in middle school, but now I'm happily lounging around in a t shirt and shorts and have felt comfortable enough to sleep without a shirt for the first time ever recently

I used to not be able to handle being touched at all with my history of physical and sexual abuse and PTSD, but now I'm able to hug people and I don't instantly panic when someone unexpectedly brushes by me anymore

I used to have panic attacks over the sound of slamming doors, but now it's just slightly startling because of the noise and that's it

I used to cry whenever someone raised their voice at me at all, but now I can take it just fine and defend myself with it's necessary

I used to be terrified of letting people see my body or face because of dysmorphia and insecurity, but now I regularly send pictures to my best friends and wear whatever I damn well please

I used to be so viscerally afraid of being open about being queer due to past bullying and queerphobia, but now I'm as openly, loudly, and unapologetically queer as I can possibly be and it makes me happy and confident in myself and my identity

So like. Never minimize your progress. Never downplay the work and effort you're putting in to heal. Never think that the effort you're putting in is meaningless. It isn't. Every bit of progress, no matter how tiny it is, is valuable and shows that you are healing and getting better

And don't think that relapsing or having bad days undoes any of your progress. It's normal to have relapses and bad days, and it does not mean that you're failing, or that you've undone all of your progress. It's okay. You're going to be okay. I'm proud of you. Don't give up on yourself

[2012wannabe]

the conversation

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

wc: 644

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

I just wanted to let you know…

I was…

When I was younger, there was a guy and…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was raped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Whenever you’re comfortable.”

“Thank you. Just thank you.”

[femsolid]

“We know that the women who recover most successfully are those who discover some meaning in their experience that transcends the limits of personal tragedy. Most commonly, women find this meaning by joining with others in social action. In their follow-up study of rape survivors, Burgess and Holmstrom discovered that the women who had made the best recoveries were those who had become active in the anti-rape movement. They became volunteer counselors at rape crisis centers, victim advocates in court, lobbyists for legislative reform. One woman traveled to another country to speak on rape and organize a rape crisis center. In refusing to hide or be silenced, in insisting that rape is a public matter, and in demanding social change, survivors create their own living monument. In the task of healing, therefore, each survivor must find her own way to restore her sense of connection with the wider community.”

- Trauma and Recovery by Judith Herman

[cringyguuurl]

The burden of caring the memories of your abuse while not being able to talk about it bc it makes most people uncomfortable is HEAVY

It feels like being stuck carrying his dirty little secret. I can't stand the fact it's gonna stay like this...forever.

[januscorner]

One thing I don’t see talked about a lot (mainly cus y’all are anti-kink) is that a lot of radqueer “identities” might just be kinks. Like you aren’t trans-rape-victim maybe you’re just into cnc. You’re not transharmful maybe you’re just a sadist. It is fine to be those things you don’t need to make up some weird bullshit

[nobody-cared-then-either]

[desultory-suggestions]

It is normal not to be able to recall your trauma. Your memories may be foggy, disorganized, inaccessible, or blank. You are not wrong, you are not dramatic, you are not dishonest. The mind is very powerful, and it will take measures to protect us for fear and harm even if we don’t choose to. Take the time you need to heal what you can feel even if you cannot name it.

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

At first the person who rented out Mack back in the day was actually very nice. The day started good. They took him out to get food, and let them use one of the showers. Usually typical actions leading up to adoption if it were another case.

Mack is always very skeptical now when he’s offered things for seemingly no reason. If another traveler variant is around and is offered something like a bath or food he’ll steal them and drag them into the pillow fort. Kitten has been yoinked before while visiting puppy. He doesn’t trust it, though due to his memories of that day being blurry they don’t know fully why the idea of a traveler being offered a bath or food makes him so stressed. It just does.

Either way it results in a stand off where the goopy refuses to return kitten

@sigery

[cursedvibes]

TW for assault, but I was curious to know your interpretation of something I keep seeing.

What do you think about the people who call Kenjaku a rapist? Or those who read him as one/say it's canon?

I personally wouldn't use that term because as far as we know the Death Painting experiment wasn't sexual (curses don't have reproductive organs and can't have sex) and Kenjaku wasn't personally involved, but I can understand why some people still want to use it because of the forced pregnancy and the whole thing being orchestrated by them. So I think that "sexual assault" doesn't capture what happened, but it's a complicated issue. The Mother's body was violated and her bodily autonomy taken away in a way you could compare to rape (but also a lot of other things since we don't actually know what and how it happened). It's very wishy-washy. The only time the claim bothers me is if people twist it into Kenjaku actually personally raping the mother and the Death Paintings being a result of that because that's not what happened and usually it goes along with the misconception that Kenjaku is a curse. Also people like to step on their soap box and say that this makes Kenjaku fans morally bad or that we ignore that aspect of their character. I think you could make a better case that depending on how aware he was, Kenjaku and Jin's relationship happened with dubious consent. It was sexual and while Jin wanted a child as well, we don't know how much he knew about the Kaorijaku situation (personally I think he didn't care that much or looked past it for the sake of his own wishes, but that's just a hc at this point).

People can call Kenjaku whatever they want as long as they stick to canon, I don't care. Just don't be a dick to actual people just for liking a character and don't start power-scaling stuff like rape, mass murder, cannibalism etc. Kenjaku is a villain for a reason. You don't have to like them, but don't make that other people's problem.

[little-witchys-garden]

Telling victims that they can't be proud they survived their abuse or that their experience surviving with abuse is something they shouldn't be proud of or shouldn't share is in fact victim shaming and victim blaming.

You are in fact no better then their abuser because you are trying to silence them like their abuser.

I said what I said!

[deripmaver]

There’s a sort of catch-22 where ultimately whether Casca’s story is well done or a complete fucking travesty is going to depend a lot on its conclusion, at least to me. However, I also think it’s important to differentiate Casca being a damsel in distress and Casca being physically and emotionally crippled by severe PTSD, even if that results in her needing to be rescued more than I’d like. 

Ultimately, considering her horrific treatment in the text thus far (I mean by the characters, though Miura is on thin ice always), I would find it more powerful to watch her to struggle through these episodes of PTSD and ultimately get to a point where they don’t have as much power over her than I would if she was revived and it was as though her trauma never happened. 

[not-poignant]

7 & 8 for the writing asks!

7. Your favourite ao3 tag.

The Explicit categorisation or the Rape/Noncon warning, which is pretty dark now that I think of it. I don't generally search Additional Tags very often, but if I do, Hurt/Comfort is at the top of the list when it's not kinks.

8. How slow is a slow burn?

It depends on the author and their style. And it depends on the characters. But I've seen stories labelled a slow burn that are like 5k words long and I have to admit, that's not a slow burn to me.

There's also different kinds of slow burn. You can have early sex but a slow burn to love. You can have early sex but a slow burn to kink. I've read a few different kinds and I tend to enjoy them all.

But I have no fixed idea of how long or slow they should be. I'm not like a slow burn puritan or anything. People can use the tag and I can decide for myself if I think it is based on like...word length and the writing style. :D

~

From this meme!

[desultory-suggestions]

Healthy Relationships with Mental Illness Look Like

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

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

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

[serickswrites]

Kingdom Collapse IX

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: referenced captivity, drowning, cpr, rape, hospital, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, caretaker and whumpee

“CARETAKER!” Teammate Two shouted as they and Teammate Three ran across the snow-covered ground to Caretaker. They could see Caretaker leaning over something. Someone. Whumpee. 

Caretaker didn’t respond to Teammate Two’s call. They were too focused on their compressions. How long has it been? Doesn’t matter. I have to keep going. Have to save Whumpee. Hang on, kid. I found you. I’m right here. Please, kid. Please. 

Whumpee moved each time Caretaker pressed onto their chest, head lolling with each movement. They were pale–paler than their usual pale, their skin almost translucent–lips the lightest shade of blue, and they were completely boneless in Caretaker’s arms. 

Please, kid. Please, God. Give me them back. God, please. I’ll do anything. ANYTHING! Caretaker begged and pleaded with God as they never stopped their compressions. Never stopped moving. 

Caretaker heard boots behind them crunching on the snow. A gloved hand gripped their shoulder. “Caretaker, how long?” Teammate Three’s voice was a quiet murmur in their ear. 

They ignored Teammate Three. They’re not dead. They’re right here. I’m right here. They can’t be dead. Whumpee, wake up. Please. 

Teammate Three’s grip tightened. “How long, Caretaker?”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re coming back. You’ll see,” Caretaker panted, never stopping their compressions. 

And still, Whumpee didn’t stir. Didn’t sputter and cough. Didn’t gasp for air. They remained completely silent and unmoving. Save for the pumps on their chest from Caretaker. 

Teammate Three’s grip turned bruising. “How long, Caretaker?”

Too long. Far too long. They can’t be gone. I can’t lose them. I can’t have failed them again. I’m right here, kid. I’ve got you. I’m right here. Come back to me. I found you. Whumpee. Please. I have you, right here. In my arms. Please, stay with me. Stay, Whumpee. Please. 

Caretaker’s cheeks were warm with tears as they started to cry. But they didn’t stop. “I-I should have been faster. They were right here. RIGHT HERE. I wasn’t fast enough,” Caretaker sobbed, their movements starting to slow. 

“Take a break, boss,” Teammate Two murmured as they knelt in the snow on Whumpee’s other side and started compressions. 

Caretaker sobbed harder as Teammate Three wrapped an arm around them. “You did everything you could. Sometimes–”

“I didn’t! I didn’t! I thought they were dead. I didn’t look for them for two weeks. Two weeks at the hands of Whumper and their crew. Two weeks of,” but Caretaker couldn’t finish. Their voice broke. “Whumpee couldn’t wait for me to find a way across the ice. They couldn’t go back up to the house. And I wasn’t fast enough to stop them.” They pressed their forehead to Whumpee’s icy one. Please, kid. Please come back. I found you. I’m right here. Please, God. Give them back. 

Teammate Three squeezed Caretaker’s shoulder tighter. Teammate Two never relented on their compressions. “Come on, Whumpee. Come on.” They looked up at their two friends, both living, warm and breathing. Seeing Caretaker’s tearstained face and swollen eyes, they renewed their efforts. They looked back down at Whumpee and their breath caught. Whumpee was cold, so cold, and still. And completely breathless. And….dead. Their heart sunk as they realized Whumpee could not have waited. They had to get away from Whumper and their crew. Teammate Two had seen enough of the scene to piece together what Whumper and their crew had been doing to Whumpee for two weeks. 

“We all failed Whumpee, Caretaker. We all thought they were dead. None of us were looking. We’re all equal in this.” Teammate Three kept their voice low, soothing. 

“Please, Whumpee,” Caretaker murmured into Whumpee’s hair. “Please come back to me. We’re here. We found you. We have you. Come back.”

Just as Teammate Two was about to give up, hope completely destroyed, they felt Whumpee convulse beneath their hands. “Whumpee?” They asked as they stopped their compressions. 

Whumpee gave a sputtering cough as water poured past their lips. Teammate Two flipped Whumpee on their side, thumping their back hard. “There you are.”

“Oh Whumpee!” Caretaker pulled Whumpee into their arms, holding Whumpee tightly. They closed their eyes as they held Whumpee close, feeling Whumpee’s sharp staccato breaths against their neck. I have you. I’m here. We’re here. 

“I’ll go get the medics,” Teammate Three said and they raced off into the dark and snowy night. 

Whumpee groaned and started to pull away, but Caretaker held them close. “You’re ok, kid. We’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

By the time the medics had made it to the lake’s edge, Whumpee was wrapped up in Teammate Two’s jacket, with Caretaker holding them tightly. They shivered violently, but were awake. And alert. 

“I don’t need them to look at me, Caretaker,” they whispered around their chattering teeth. 

“Kid, you were in the water for I don’t even know how long, and you were…out for even longer.” You were not breathing. You had no pulse. You were dead. I almost lost you. I’m not losing you. I have you, kid. I’m here. 

Caretaker lifted Whumpee onto the gurney before Whumpee could protest further. Whumpee immediately thrust their hand into Caretaker’s. Caretaker squeezed their hand tightly as the medics evaluated Whumpee. Squeezed it as they loaded the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Squeezed it through the ride to the hospital. Caretaker only let go when the team of doctors and nurses told them they had to. That Whumpee was safe and they just needed to run a few tests. 

By some miracle, Whumpee was relatively unscathed from their near watery grave. They were horribly bruised, their shoulders were in terrible shape, and they had a few cracked ribs. But the worst was hearing Whumpee having to tell the doctor about being raped. Over and over. 

Caretaker knew that when they found Whumpee chained up and naked that the likelihood of that having happened was high. But hearing Whumpee’s flat voice as they said they needed a rape exam almost broke them. Seeing Whumpee’s eyes filled with tears, their face oddly flat as they spoke filled Caretaker with rage. Prison was too good for Whumper and their crew. 

By the time Caretaker was allowed back in the room, Whumpee was curled on their side in the hospital bed under three blankets, hand fisted to hide the tremble. 

“Can I come in, kid?” Caretaker asked tentatively. They wanted nothing more than to take Whumpee in their arms. Hold them close and reassure them that everything was going to be ok. Reassure themself that Whumpee was alive. That they were breathing. But they didn’t want to push Whumpee. 

“I wish you would,” Whumpee whispered, not looking up. 

Caretaker climbed onto the bed and wrapped themself around Whumpee. They held Whumpee tightly as Whumpee began to sob. Caretaker held them tightly until Whumpee fell asleep. Held them tightly as they slept. Caretaker was never going to let go. I found you, kid. I’m here. I’ve got you. 

Tags: @appleejuice @whump-a-whump-whumpshop @st0rmm @pigeonwhumps @ghostfacepepper @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @unrestrainedclown-whump