#and discussed intense things without triggering me!!!

[soggypotatoes]

yo I just met the psychiatrist the new hospital I was moved to yesterday put me with and there was an Instant connection and I really really liked her and she said really interesting helpful things and I'm so relieved I'm crying hfjdjfksls

been seeing different psychiatrists for 8 years and the ones I've had have triggered me and made me worse and ik I've only seen her once but I think she will *actually* help me thank GOD

[fear-is-truth]

Hi, hope you have/had a great day! I LIVE for your writing lol, makes me happy when I see you posted<3 Could u maybe do how the Evans would comfort you during a panic attack?

𝜗ϱ ┆ PANIC ATTACKS .ᐟ

── THE EVANs ‧ h e a d c a n o n s ೃ࿐

ft. tate ‧ kit ‧ kyle ‧ jimmy ‧ james ‧ kai ‧ peter

⟣ TAGS ‧ SFW | gn! reader

a/n: aww thank you pookie, here you go !!

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

Tate would approach you slowly, softly saying your name to let you know he’s there without startling you

If your panic attack is particularly intense, he might get a bit teary-eyed himself. he hates seeing you in pain, but he’d try to be strong for you

he would gently guide you to match his breathing, taking deep, slow breaths to help you calm your racing heart. he’d keep his forehead pressed against yours, breathing with you until your breaths start to slow

Tate would start whispering reassurances. he’d keep repeating phrases like “i’m here,” “baby, you’re safe,” and “i’ve got you” to ground you.

after you begin to calm down, he’d become even more clingy than usual, and wouldn’t leave until he’s sure you’re okay

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

Kit would immediately switch into a calm, composed mode. he’s dealt with a lot of intense situations, so his first instinct is to remain grounded for you

if you start to hyperventilate, Kit would gently guide you to sit down and try to match your breathing. if you allowed him, he’d cup your face in his hands, making you focus on him to help slow your breathing

gently talks you through the panic attack, reminding you of the things you love, your future plans together, or small, positive memories to help shift your focus

for the rest of the day, Kit would be extra affectionate and cautious, constantly reminding you how much he loves you. he’d be touchy and gentle, doing things like holding your hand, kissing your forehead, or pulling you into his arms for a hug

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

he’d focus on helping you slow your breathing, counting slowly or guiding you to match every inhale and exhale

Kyle’s protective nature would kick in even more after the panic attack. he’d be more mindful of your triggers, doing everything he can to prevent it from happening again

afterward, Kyle would keep an eye on you, making sure you’re comfortable and have what you need. he’d make you a cup of tea, offer a warm bath, or just stay close to you

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

Jimmy is fiercely protective of the people he loves, so seeing you in distress would cause him to react with instant concern

his first instinct would be to protect you, both physically and emotionally

he’d move you both to a quieter, more private place, somewhere you feel safe. sheltering you from any outside stress

he’d reach out to touch you, tentatively at first, as if he’s afraid of making things worse. once he feels it’s okay, he’d hold your hand, rub your back, or stroke your hair to soothe you

he’d stay by your side as long as it takes for you to feel better, not rushing you or making you feel like you’re taking too much time

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

would likely kneel before you, taking your hands in his as he looks into your eyes

rubbing soothing circles on your palms or fingers, focusing on keeping you connected to the present

his voice would be calm as he speaks to you. tell you stories from his past (ones that are not about murder), or recite poetry, using his sexy fake brahms accent to distract and calm you

once you’ve calmed down, James would offer you a wine or brandy and discuss what had happened

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

at first, Kai would appear indifferent or even irritated, giving you the impression that he expects you to handle it on your own. he’d watch you from a distance, assessing the situation without immediately stepping in

he’d offer minimal help, bluntly telling you to “breathe” or “get it together.” his tone lacks the warmth that others might provide, as he believes in toughening you up

he wouldn’t coddle you or offer comfort during the panic attack. if anything, he’d make a pointed remark about how you were being “too emotional”

once you’ve calmed down, Kai would initiate “pinky power”. using it as a way to bond but also to subtly manipulate the situation, asking you probing questions to figure out your triggers

Kai’s version of affection would come later, in very small gestures. he might reward you for handling the panic attack “well” or offer a rare moment of physical closeness, but only on his terms

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

he’d drop everything and rush to your side. his usual playful demeanour would drop as he focuses entirely on your wellbeing

Peter would use grounding techniques to help you focus on the present. guide you through noticing things around you, using your surroundings to help pull you out of the panic

would zip around to gather anything that might help you feel better—your favourite blanket, a glass of water, or a snack

i mean, boy would literally steal a penguin from the zoo if that’s what you asked for

when the panic attack had subsided, Peter would suggest doing something fun, like cuddling up and watching a movie. to keep you in a good headspace

would later try to lighten the situation with a bit of humour in hopes of distracting you

but! although Peter knows laughter helps, he’d be careful not to minimise what you’ve gone through

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[forfucksakesniall]

"Whispered Hearts"

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton has a secret girlfriend. During the Monaco Grand Prix, their relationship is revealed to the public, but they remain strong and support each other.

Word count: 1553

Trigger warning/Content advisory: Media scrutiny, privacy invasion, public attention, and intense emotions including anxiety and stress. Reader discretion is advised.

Masterlist

As Lewis arrives with effortless charm, the cameras flash constantly, capturing his every move. Fans eagerly call out his name, seeking his autograph on their merch. With a grateful smile, he acknowledges their unwavering support, waving to the crowd.

Lewis Hamilton, the perpetual bachelor, guards a closely kept secret from prying media eyes. Behind closed doors, passionate and secret romance blossoms between Lewis and (Y/N), spanning over three beautiful years.

On the yacht en route to the grand prix, Lewis takes a phone call, his face lit up with anticipation. Curiosity ripples through observers, wondering about the person on the other end. If only they knew who filled those precious moments with him, their curiosity would soar.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

Hours earlier…

Awakened by shuffling and muffled voices, you groggily open your eyes. Lewis moves about the room, preparing for today's practice. Admiring him from behind, you appreciate his early rising and his need to fix everything early in the morning. This is what you get for dating a control freak.

The sound of the duvet shifting catches his attention, and he turns toward you, wide-eyed, realizing he has disturbed you. With a gentle expression, he approaches, settling beside you on the bed.

"Good morning, baby," he whispers, planting a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand cradling your cheek. "Did I wake you?"

"Its fine babe" you softly respond. His brows furrow, searching for a way to make it up to you, reading his thoughts like an open book. He knows how much you love your sleep and feels guilty for waking you.

"It was time to wake up anyway," you assure him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. A smile graces his face, easing the tension.

"Since I've disturbed your beauty sleep, princess," he playfully teases, "I'll make you some breakfast."

"Good to know," you playfully tease back, anticipation twinkling in your eyes.

It's still early, and you cherish the time together before he leaves for the race. After breakfast, you find yourselves snuggled up on the couch, bodies entwined, surrounded by fluffy pillows. Wearing cozy pajamas, you wish this moment could last forever.

You discuss your plans for the day, and you reassure him of your unwavering support, letting him know you'll be watching him every step of the way.

"You can go outside and enjoy your day instead of being cooped up here," he suggests, a hint of worry on his face.

Cradling his face in your hands, you alleviate his concerns. "I want to be here with you, and besides, the streets will be busy anyway."

He pauses, contemplating his next words. "What if… What if you came to the race?"

You look at him, surprise and intrigue shining in your eyes.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

Lewis on the phone

"Hey baby, I'm here now."

"Hey, I just arrived too. The staff guided me into the paddock without attracting any attention."

"That's good. Um, are you feeling alright? I hope the cameras doesn't make you too uncomfortable. They are everywhere and—"

"I'll be fine, Lewis. Stop worrying, okay? Focus on the race, alright?"

"Yeah… okay. I love you. I'll see you later."

"Love you too, babe. See you."

Entering the Mercedes paddock, many unfamiliar faces greet you, surprised by their recognition to you. They address you by name, offering your favorite drink, even asking ypu things only you and Lewis knows. As if they already knew who you were.

Guiding you to Lewis's driver's room, you settle onto the couch, waiting for his arrival. It feels as if you been there so many time despite it being your first. But the truth, this is where Lewis FaceTimes you whenever he has a spare moment, talking to you before each race.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, revealing someone you've only seen on TV and heard about in Lewis's stories.

"Hey Lewis, I wanted to ask you about our ping pong rematch—" George's eyes widen in surprise, realizing he isn't speaking to Lewis but to Lewis's best-kept secret.

"Oh, um… you must be (Y/N)?"

Before you can respond, Lewis intervenes, placing a reassuring hand on George's shoulder.

"Let's discuss that later, George," he says, attempting to close the door.

George still manages to squeeze his way in.

"Wait a minute, you're always talking about her, and now she's here, and you're suddenly all shy," George cheekily remarks.

"Oh, so you talk about me at work, Lewis?" you playfully tease, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Now is not the time for that," Lewis deflects, trying to change the subject, but you and George exchange giggles.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you," George says, pats back at Lewis's shoulder before leaving.

As Lewis closes and locks the door, safeguarding his secret, he apologizes for George's silliness.

"I'm sorry about him. He tends to talk nonsense when he's excited," he defends himself.

You can't help but giggle, knowing that George's words hold some truth, but you don't press the matter further.

Lewis takes a seat beside you, his hand reaching for yours, gently rubbing the back of it. Tension fills the air.

Drawing closer to him, you speak softly, "Hey, stop worrying about us. We'll be just fine." You lean in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, deepening your connection.

He draws back slightly, cradling your face in his hands. "If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just let me know, and I'll arrange for someone to bring you back home," he assures, his words sincere.

The mention of "home" sends a warm wave of comfort and belonging through you, reminding you of the depth of your connection and the time you've spent together.

"I promise, and I know I'll be alright," you whisper, offering your reassurance in return.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

As Lewis heads out of the paddock, drawing attention to himself and creating a diversion, you seize the opportunity to slip away unnoticed toward the garage, seeking a better vantage point to watch him race.

Lost in your thoughts, you're approached by a girl, approximately your age, her Mercedes merch indicating she's a fan.

"Hi! Hello?" She greets you enthusiastically.

"I saw you coming out of the paddock. I'm curious, what kind of pass do you have?" Her questioning catches you off guard, and you find yourself unable to make up a lie in response.

Before you can answer, her friends join her, and Lewis's gaze shifts toward the commotion, realizing that you're being surrounded by a growing crowd of fans. Although you remain calm, Lewis's protective instincts kicks in.

As Lewis walks back towards you, attracting the attention of cameras and journalists, confusion spreads among them. They wonder why he's suddenly heading in the opposite direction, away from the garage, and they start following him.

Approaching the group, Lewis cheerfully greets them as he always does, diverting their attention from you. He positions himself slowly in front of you, blocking the view of the girls who are now asking for his autograph on their merch.

With a gentle push of his elbow, he signals you to step back and head to the garage. However, as you try to leave the crowd, the cameras and journalists have already made their way to you, envading on your personal space.

Lewis quickly realizes his mistake and looks to the security personnel for assistance. They swiftly intervene, pushing back the crowd to create a pathway for both of you. Guiding you with a reassuring hand on your back, Lewis leads you forward, your gaze fixed on the ground to avoid any unwanted attention.

"Shit," you overhear him mutter, his anxiety mounting once again. This was certainly not the outcome you had hoped for.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

The news spreads rapidly, like wildfire.

"Lewis Hamilton Spotted with Mystery Woman in Monaco Grand Prix."

"Lewis Hamilton's Secret Love: Who is his Monaco Grand Prix Girlfriend?"

"Lewis Hamilton's Monaco Grand Prix Surprise: Introducing his Secret Girlfriend."

Gossip sites churn out articles, each one vying for attention. Pictures capture the moment as both of you escape the crowd and head toward the garage.

Lewis is preparing for practice when he notices you are dazed and confused, absorbed in what you've read online. The information about you—your occupation, hometown, and mutual connections—seems to have spread with lightning speed. Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that Lewis is kneeling in front of you until he takes your hand.

"I know this isn't how we wanted it, and... I.. I shouldn't have asked you to come," he rambles.

"At least we don't have to hide anymore," you reassure him, sensing his anxiety. "We'll figure it out after the race, okay?"

He continues to gaze at you, seeking reassurance that you're truly okay. Standing up, he leans down to plant a tender kiss on the top of your head.

"Be safe. I love you," you tell him, your voice filled with affection.

"I love you too, baby," he responds, his words carrying a heartfelt warmth.

He walks towards the car and drives away. After a few seconds, you finally gather the strength to rise from your seat and contemplate the situation.

You come to a realization that it shouldn't sadden you that they discovered your secret. It was inevitable, something you and Lewis would eventually have to face.

With newfound determination, you stand tall and position yourself near the monitors, eagerly watching Lewis's performance. A member of the garage team hands you a pair of headphones, allowing you to hear Lewis's communications.

"Go get them babe," you whisper to yourself, offering words of encouragement to your beloved.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“I think that’s everything,” you smile at Conrad across the table. 

Sy continues to loom and pace around the edge of the room. He’s been doing that. Hovering like a vulture. Even when you try to get him to participate, he only has grumbles and glares. You’re used to his grumpiness but lately, he’s been nearly intolerable. 

“Mm, yes, I think it is,” Conrad smirks, “shall we have a celebratory drink? Seems the old boar could use it?” 

“I’m younger than you,” Sy stomps over, his ears sharp. “So how’s that?” 

“Yes, well, one might not guess it by looking. Do relax, I am merely making fun,” Conrad crosses his arms. “Is there a reason you are so antsy to be away? I was rather happy to receive an old friend such as yourself.” 

“Nice seein’ ya and all but we gotta get back,” Sy crosses his arms. “Izzie’s got friends waitin’, don’t ya?” 

He nudges you with his elbow and you send him a skeptical look. Since when did he care so much? 

“Ah yes, so you mentioned some wonderful ladies back home. Do have a drink in my honour. Such a considerate boss, eh, Syverson?” He smirks. 

You stand and press your fingertips to the table, “thanks. Uh, I guess he’s right. The sooner we’re on the road, the sooner we’re back. It was nice meeting you. And doing business.” 

“Always a pleasure, Syverson, and I do enjoy a beautiful lady darkening my door now and again.” 

Sy growls and you try not to notice. You’re not sure if it’s territorial or what but you don’t need him acting like a guard dog. You prefer his slightly oblivious gruffness to his intense derision. 

“Thank you. You’re a great host.” 

You shake Conrad’s hand and he tugs it up. Once again, he kisses your knuckles and sends you a wink. Sy grabs your other arm and yanks you away. 

“Get on with it, Izzie,” he snarls as he drags you away. 

You stagger with his furious pace, not mentioning that he hardly bothered to give a proper goodbye. The way he’s gripping you so tight, you can’t think of much else but the creak in your bones. You dig in your heels as you get through the compound door. 

“Yow! Sy!” You yank your hand away at last. He takes a few steps before he stops and faces you. “What is your problem? You can’t grab me like that.” You raise your arm and rub the tender skin, “you hurt me.” 

“Ah, I’m-- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, Iz. Ya know I wouldn’t ever--” 

“But you did. What’s gotten into you, anyway? Why are you being so rude?” 

“I’m not,” he harrumphs and drops his shoulders. “I just wanna be home. Bein’ out here in all this sand, takes me back. That’s it.” 

“Is that it?” You challenge and stand straight. Even with perfect posture, you hardly measure up to the large man. 

Sy frowns, “I’m sorry, Izzie, truly. Why don’t ya give me a smack then? I deserve it.” 

You almost laugh, instead snorting, “I wouldn’t-- I’m not that sort, you know that.” 

“I do. It’s why I like ya, Iz. You temper me out. I’m a big oaf without you,” he looks away bashfully. “How about you go grab your bag and I’ll go say sorry. You’re right. No way to treat a friend. And partner.” 

You consider him and slowly nod. “Alright, I’ll meet you at the gate then.” 

“Sure thing, sugar.”  

You tilt your head at the pet name but have no time to comment. You move aside as he moves towards you and let him pass. You stare after him for a second then turn back to your path. You know how he feels. You just want to be home in your bed. Oh, and it would be nice to have cell reception. 

You find your room after a few stray wanderings and grab your bag. You head back out, still lost in the maze of the compound. You find the sunlight and walk out into the blaze of the noontime apex. You go to the gate and peer around at the mercenaries in their padded vests and harnesses. 

As you wait, you grow uneasy. You’re still not entirely used to this job. Not always. It’s easier to manage Sy’s grocery list or his forgotten appointments, but out here, in the shit as he calls it, you feel lost. 

He appears with a wave of his large hand. The fingerless glove nearly blends into his skintone from the wear and tear. You face him fully as he approaches and he points behind you. 

“Ready to go for a ride?”  

You follow his finger to the buggy just on the other end of the yard. You squint and turn back to him. 

“Conrad can be nice when he wants to,” he grins, “you wanna drive?” 

You stare at him, deeply considering the prospect. You don’t know if you trust him to make the drive and yet, you don’t if you should trust yourself either. He dangles the key from a thick finger and you roll your eyes. 

“I wanna get outta here in one piece,” you snatch it. 

He chuckles and lets you have it. He reaches for you and you wince. He grabs the strap of your bag and hauls it onto his shoulder next to his. 

“I’ll get these secured, Iz,” he offers. 

You hesitate. He’s being awfully helpful. Not that he can’t be but the last few days have been strange. You guess both of you might be getting a bit homesick. 

[thepersonperson]

The Reproductive Horror of JJK Part 1 (The Loss of Bodily Autonomy)

Part 2

Notes before we start.

1) This analysis deals heavily with topics of nonconsent, grooming, abuse, reproductive manipulation, and pregnancy. Please proceed with caution.

2) This post was inspired by @hermitw

3) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

4) Written as of JJK 265.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface 

This was written with the assumption you've also read these other analyses:

Thoughts on Sukuna and Kenjaku’s relationship as of JJK 258.

Please give it a quick glance at least.

Quiet Horror

Jujutsu Kaisen is a unique piece of horror writing to me because the most upsetting aspects rely almost entirely on implication. Immensely triggering topics such as sexual abuse and rape are never shown, only implied. I personally have difficulty consuming/cannot consume media that depicts these kinds of things graphically, which is why JJK’s framing of it intrigues me. Rather than being sent into a panic, I find myself deeply unnerved. I’ve decided to call this “quiet horror” since I don’t know how else to describe it.

The quiet horror of JJK has been there since the start—the dehumanization, the loss of autonomy, the idea someone’s body does not belong to them and therefore ok to use… It’s right there in your face starting with Yuji becoming Sukuna’s vessel. But the horror is not just that those things occur, it’s that hardly anyone recognizes this as a problem.

These insidious ideas are persistent across the narrative and accepted. And its primary victims are the female characters.

Misogyny

The fascinating thing about misogyny in JJK is how it is rarely outright depicted. Characters will talk about generational abuse spawned by it, but we never actually see it in action until Naoya. And even that is mostly implied. 

That’s how it is in real life too. When people experience overt misogyny, it’s often when they’re isolated. For example a family gathering where the men leer at girls and say horrendous things is witnessed by only those attending. If one was never around this, the only way they’re made aware of it is by a victim discussing it.

And this is exactly what happens with the Zenins.

What’s troubling about this exchange is Momo laying out everything wrong with systemic misogyny and that’s it. She offers no solution to it because she has none. Nobara is told, this is reality and you need to accept it.

Mai falls into the same defeatist trappings, angry at Maki for trying to do something about it.

You can’t really hold this against her. She’s been abused to an extent Maki wasn’t aware of and Maki is the only person Mai can lash out at without consequence.

To be clear, it is heavily implied that Naoya molested her. Some of the first words out of his mouth are him sexualizing his underage cousins. And later as a curse, he taunts Maki for being an adult with Mai. 

It’s easy to dismiss this as Naoya mocking Mai for not reaching adulthood. However, Mai has incestuous thoughts about Megumi and Maki (seeing them as her first crushes per the fanbook), which can be a very unfortunate side effect experienced by incest victims (huge content warning for the linked source). Combine that with the knowledge of Naoya’s earlier sexualization and the implication is heavy.

Mai’s abuse is not the only one framed this way. Naoya’s mother is without a face or name. The only hint of her abuse is the word いっぱい (ippai) which means many. Naoya has many older siblings who aren’t named. He is the next head before Gojo’s sealing due to his Cursed Technique (CT) being the same as his father’s. From this it can be inferred his mother was treated like livestock and used by Naobito until she produced a worthy heir. 

Rika’s character profile is included here because her story is much like Mai’s—her abuse at the hands of her father is heavily implied. Her intense dislike of older men, being aware of predatory gazes as a child, and even using that for manipulation—these are all traits child victims of sexual assault may display (huge content warning for the linked source).

It’s hard to pick up on these things unless you’re in the know. But it is there and it is consistent. …And most of the cast doesn’t do much about it. Maki and Rika are different in that regard. They react to these transgressions violently, killing their abusers (and in Maki’s case the enablers too). Neither of them are in the wrong for doing so. It’s just really sad that they had to take matters into their own hands because no one else would stop it.

Hidden in Plain Sight

The misogyny female characters experience is very subdued and never graphic. Creepy behavior towards them is never shown outright, it’s all implied. We don’t see Naoya leer at Mai, we hear him discuss her figure in her absence. (I think that’s what helps make this less triggering. We don’t have to see them be victimized.) The same cannot be said of the male characters.

Ui Ui is a character that makes most people extremely uncomfortable because the grooming he experiences is in your face, pedophilic, and incestuous. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that as a ruthless capitalist, Mei Mei exploits her brother this way for the sake of money.

Through warped affection she has convinced a child that his body belongs to her and that he is only to use it for her. 

What makes this situation go from bad to worse is that everyone around them just tolerates it. The most opposition we see to this relationship is Yuji side eyeing them. Otherwise people are more than happy to look the other way and even enable it by paying for their services.

This contradiction is especially glaring when it comes to Gojo, who very much is against the enjoyment of youth to be stolen away from his students. Why does Gojo pay for and tolerate this woman who is very clearly preying on her brother? Is it because Ui Ui seems happy with situation?

Well, I think it’s because he’s used to it too.

To acknowledge that what Mei Mei is doing as wrong and intervening would be admitting to himself that he was taken advantage of as a child. It’s not like it killed him, you know? He’s strong and he’s beautiful. Everyone wants him for his body. That’s just how things work.

In the fanbook Gege says that Gojo can never be fully honest with a woman. And that is a response to the question: “He (Gojo) seems to be aware of his own handsomeness, does he want to have a partner?”

It’s a bit concerning that Gojo is avoidant with women while having a history of them attempting to prey on him as a child. It doesn't help that in the Gojo Booklet interview, Gege reveals that Gojo would apparently be a sugar baby to someone much older than him if he didn't have to be a sorcerer.

The framing of these scenes as comedic is very uncomfortable. It’s a bit too similar to how male victims are portrayed in real life too. I’m not sure if this is intentional on Gege’s part, but regardless the result for me is horror. These terrible things are happening and nothing is being done about it.

Ui Ui and Gojo are taken advantage of by these adults because of what their bodies can do for them. This is a recurring theme in JJK not much different from how the women and girls are treated by the men of the Zenins. All of this stems from dehumanization that results in objectification. 

I’ve said before that Gojo and Sukuna are twin flames. And in this aspect they’re very similar I think. Something awful happened to Sukuna right in our faces and most of the readerbase didn’t take it seriously because he’s The Strongest and a man.

This is sexual assault point blank. A naked person forcibly put her body against Sukuna and he didn’t want that to happen. And just like everyone else, Yorozu did this because she wants Sukuna’s body for herself.

It’s framed like a joke, but the horror persists. Sukuna is going catatonic here in part because losing means entering a marriage he has no interest in. The implication here is distressing—Sukuna sees this as losing his bodily autonomy and being raped for the rest of his life. Likening that to death is understandable.

Hopefully you can see the pattern now. Sexual assault and exploitation is commonplace in JJK. It’s just subtle enough to make people vaguely uncomfortable without making them realize it’s ongoing theme. That’s the quiet horror of JJK.

The Dehumanization of Vessels

Vessels represent everything that makes my skin crawl in JJK. Someone’s body no longer belongs to themself—it’s a thing, a container that is for someone else to use. They aren’t even afforded the dignity of their name most of the time, being referred to as Someone’s Vessel by others.

Itadori Yuji

It goes without saying, Yuji’s dehumanization is the most blatant. He’s called Sukuna’s Vessel by most of the people around him and slated to be executed for the crime of existing as it. The other teenagers around his age are taught this dehumanization by those much older than him.

It’s absurd. Despite Yuji being born with and living in this body of his for 15 years, it’s suddenly not his. All because Sukuna “tainted” it.

And look at this declaration from Uraume: “Whose body do you think that is?!”

They phrase this as if it was never Yuji’s to begin with. 

On some level that is true, Kenjaku created Yuji to be the perfect cage for Sukuna. Uraume didn’t know that the time Yuji was literally bred into existence by Kenjaku to be a tool, but it’s interesting nonetheless. It’s even more interesting that Kenjaku is not the only one guilty of claiming a child’s body from birth for use by an adult. Tegen has a whole bloodline that gives them vessels for consumption.

Star Plasma Vessels

Amanai Riko is introduced as The Star Plasma Vessel while naked in a tub. Symbolically this is striking—she is a blank slate that can only be projected onto. Clothing reflects a person’s lifestyle, personality, and tastes. Riko being denied this in her introduction demonstrates her lack of autonomy. 

And just like how the Kyoto kids were groomed into dehumanizing Yuji, she is groomed into dehumanizing herself by the adults around her. It’s ok that she’s a vessel and someone else will use her body to live because it’s for the greater good.

Those aren’t her true feelings though. Deep down she wants to have her body and her life. And an adult still winds up taking that away from her. 

Isn’t it interesting how Gojo does this same song and dance to himself as The Strongest? Knowing this history and his adamancy towards Yuji’s autonomy (especially in the light novels) is all the more heart wrenching.

But this didn’t start with Yuji, it started with Riko. …on Tengen’s orders.

It’s strange that the individual taking away the lives of hand-picked young girls would be this considerate, right?

JJK never tries to frame characters as completely evil at all times. I appreciate that because it makes depictions of abuse far more realistic. We don’t see Naobito abuse his wife or enable Naoya, we see him half-drunk fighting like a pro without openly antagonizing Maki. If you didn’t know about the Zenin Clan, he’d just be a funny old man. This dichotomy is often why abuse victims aren’t believed. The people they tell only know the good side. And someone who is capable of that goodness can’t possibly be that bad. 

It’s the same way for Tengen. They’re not a creep that salivates over young girls, they’re a calm and reasonable individual who has convinced themself and many others that these actions are necessary. Yuki is the only person that calls them out for how screwed up this all is.

Before Gojo, she was The Strongest. And before Riko, she was the Star Plasma Vessel. Her body and her life was going to be given away in service to someone much older than her under the guise of a necessary evil perpetuated by religion. She rejected that and escaped her fate by becoming uncontrollably strong.

Yuki has every right to be this angry. What Tengen is doing is very messed up. All kinds of excuses and softenings are made for them, but in the end they are using the bodies of young girls to sustain themself. That’s why it’s all the more horrifying that these girls’ souls are still present and coherent enough to speak.

I really like that Yuki won’t let Tengen know what they’re saying. She’s right to assume that Tengen will just excuse whatever comes from it. However, the fact she’s this angry implies those voices aren’t anything pleasant.

Incarnation

The horror of being trapped in a body that no longer belongs to you doesn’t just exist for Tengen’s Plasma Star Vessels, it’s the very foundation of Kenjaku’s vessel incarnation. Which of them came up with this idea is first unknown. They ultimately do the same things to vessels but for very different reasons.

Incarnation works on two layers of screwed up:

1) The host’s soul is suppressed to the point where the invader cannot detect them.

2) It’s next to impossible to return them to who they were once before.

Following the quiet themes around sexual assault, this bears an uncanny resemblance to victims dealing with the aftermath of such an event. Your body no longer feels like it belongs to you, becoming invisible to those who favor the perpetrator, forever tainted after being used by another.

And following the quiet themes around misogyny, this becomes reproductive horror. A body stripped of autonomy and permanently changed after being forced to give someone else new life—Incarnation is a visceral depiction of forced pregnancies.

Pregnancy Horror (Kenjaku)

I think it’s deliberate that mothers in JJK are hardly given faces or names. That’s all a misogynistic society wants them for anyways. Their bodies are to produce someone worthwhile. A tool for those in power to use for their own ends. 

Our first introduction to this is Kamo’s mother, who despite playing a central role in his life, remains unnamed. She gives birth to a worthy heir of the Kamo Clan and is immediately discarded. 

Thankfully Kamo eventually abandons his clan in favor of supporting his mother. Learning a hard lesson from Maki, he seems to conclude that clans existing through misogynistic practices cannot be reformed into a place for women. 

And this misogyny of the Kamo Clan’s is historical. Enough for Kenjaku to take the place of Meiji-era Kamo Notoroshi to commit the most heinous sexual abuses known so far. And despite this history, the modern Kamo Notoroshi is named after him. Another awful secret known by those in power that is never fully condemned since they ultimately benefit from treating women like broodmares.

Death Painting Wombs

The Kamo Clan’s greatest sin is the coverup of Kenjaku’s actions as Kamo Notoroshi. I’ll be going much more into depth with its severity, be warned.

We’ll start with the facts. The faceless and nameless mother of Choso and his 9 brothers was raped by Kenjaku and a cursed spirit 9 times and had those fetuses aborted 9 times. 

I’ve been on about the loss of bodily autonomy so I’ll be focusing on the abortion process itself. Historical abortions were incredibly dangerous things. Though they varied by region, a lot of the methodology converges.

I will quote the favored methods in historical Japan directly from this article:

“Natural methods included drinking poisonous substances or herbal concoctions, all of which lacked a scientific basis. Many had adverse effects. Other means included acupuncture, cold water immersion, and vaginally inserting sharp objects such as burdock roots to break the amniotic sack.”

Kenjaku is someone that does not care about others’ suffering since everyone is just a thing to be played with. I doubt the victims of these experiments were offered any pain relief. Choso’s mother was made to endure one of these methods 9 times.

When Mahito feeds one of the fetuses to a man, we can see that it is slightly smaller than their palm. Here’s a helpful guide for the size of a fetus by week based on the size of a fruit.

I think a lime or lemon best represents the size and shape. A palm sized fetus is somewhere around 12–16 weeks old. Methods that involve inducing a miscarriage via ingesting medicine or poison decrease drastically after 8–12 weeks. (I’m basing this off the abortion pill that actually works.)

Kenjaku wanted to make sure the fetuses remained intact, so inducing a miscarriage by puncturing the amniotic sac to trigger labor-like contractions was most likely the chosen method. I’m not sure if Kenjaku can use Reversed Cursed Technique (RCT) on others to heal them, but that would allow for C-sections to be possible too.

It takes several weeks or months to become pregnant again after a miscarriage. Let’s standardize this as a range of 2–24 weeks. (Based on the earliest known conception at 2 weeks and the recommended conception time of 6 months.) Choso’s mother endured this without pain management 9 times.

12–16 weeks of pregnancy.

2–24 weeks for conception.

9 Times.

She endured these rapes and abortions ranging anywhere from 126–360 weeks or 2.4–6.9 years. 

I’m harping on this point because unless you know the details, this bit gets glossed over. The struggles of those who are pregnant both willingly and not are often downplayed or kept out of sight. Whatever symptoms she had for the first trimester of pregnancy (0-12 weeks) were repeated without support and knowing it was to be terminated 9 times over.

Here is a list of possible symptoms for the first trimester from the Cleveland Clinic.

Sore Breasts

Nausea: "Morning sickness is one of the telltale signs of early pregnancy. Despite its name, it can last all day and all night."

Mood Swings: "The sudden rush of hormones may put you on a rollercoaster of emotions. You may alternate between feeling anxious or scared to excited or weepy within a span of 30 minutes. It may be helpful to talk through your feelings with a friend or your partner.

Fatigue

Frequent Urination: "Your uterus begins to grow to support the pregnancy. It may begin pressing on your bladder, causing you to need to pee more often."

Acne or Other Skin Changes

Mild Shortness of Breath

I do not blame Choso for only referring to this as Kenjaku toying with his mother. The full breadth of her suffering is not something her child should have to bear.

Kenjaku repeats a similar kind of trauma for every incarnation born of a human made to swallow an object. Their bodies don’t belong to them anymore—they’re just hosts to the life of someone they never wanted to have.

To what extent the incarnated know they will be inflicting this harm on others is unknown. It’s just very uncomfortable knowing that Kenjaku created this method in a way that makes the violation of bodies mandatory. 

Tengen

This obsession with forcing pregnancies onto others does not end with incarnation or the death painting wombs. Kenjaku’s absorption of Tengen is a culmination of these experiments. 

Tengen is turned into a pregnancy. Who we’ve established to be hosting a mass of young girl’s bodies. The yonic imagery is incredibly overt for this process.

Tengen is put into a womb that resembles a vagina before becoming a fetus. Kenjaku’s Domain Expansion (DE) contains the literal decapitated heads of the pregnant. (More faceless women being used for their bodies.)

The DE name itself refers to Garbhadhatu which is the Womb Realm in Buddhism. You could translate this as all-enveloping womb.

What this symbolically means, I have no idea. There is, however, a consistent, misogynistic disregard for consent and the bodies of those who can bear children when it comes to Kenjaku. And that’s horrifying.

Sukuna 

Initially Kenjaku bears the Merger pregnancy using the stolen dead body of Geto Suguru. So even though Kenjaku consents to this pregnancy, the person whose body is being used for this doesn’t get to have a say in it.

But we already know how upsetting that is. We’ve seen how much this has pissed off Gojo Satoru who blames himself for his loved one’s defilement. What’s not being discussed in depth is Sukuna’s being inadvertently made a victim from this.

Sukuna’s fingers, a cursed object explicitly made by Kenjaku, are able to create cursed wombs. Since these fingers were created long before the death painting wombs, it appears that Kenjaku’s first attempts to birth evolved humans started with him.

Note how the finger bearers have 4 eyes, just like Sukuna.

I’ve been over why Kenjaku would target Sukuna and how Sukuna does not desire relationships or progeny and how his strength has prevented Kenjaku from forcing that on him directly. What I’m trying to draw attention to is how this appears to be the start of Kenjaku trying to workaround his boundaries without getting killed.

Knowing the extent to which Kenjaku is willing to turn others’ bodies into breeding stock makes the fact Sukuna’s fingers are essentially capable of birthing powerful curses very alarming.

Kenjaku didn’t stop there. The binding vow between them was still made to produce these cursed objects and the context of its formation is still missing. The other culling game players make it very clear Kenjaku either manipulated or tricked them into becoming cursed objects. There is not a single named character Kenjaku didn’t betray in some fashion after misleading them with false promises.

For Sukuna, Yuji being a cage instead of a vessel already indicated Kenjaku was not being honest with him. I think there’s more to it than that though. The details of the Merger and what activates it are something Sukuna and Uraume do not fully understand. Kenjaku tries to explain a little bit to them, but they both shut it down.

And without knowing the full breadth or implication of their binding vow, I don’t think Sukuna expected to be forced into a pregnancy that requires birthing.

I appreciate that Sukuna falls victim to this manipulation despite being the strongest. It goes to show that anyone can experience the loss of bodily autonomy.

Itadori Jin & Kaori 

His identical twin is not spared of this reproductive manipulation either. Jin is manipulated into having a child with the corpse of his wife who is piloted by Kenjaku. But I want to take the time to give Kaori the dignity Kenjaku has denied her.

Even if Kaori wanted a child, there is no meaningful way for her to consent to this pregnancy. I’m not even sure if Jin fully understood there was someone else wearing Kaori’s body. There is a real possibility she didn’t want a child to begin with. We just don’t know since everyone except her gets to discuss it.

She’s exactly like Choso’s mother here. Her body no longer belongs to her and she has no spoken dialogue. Her personhood is denied on introduction. What she was like or what things she aspired to is treated as irrelevant—she’s just another woman Kenjaku used and discarded like a tool.

Visceral Femininity 

Bloodborne is a game about. Well it’s a game that happens at you. There is little plot or reason to the Lovecraftian horrors that drive you and the characters mad. But when you examine the fragments of lore hidden both in plain sight and on item descriptions…you go insane.

There are patterns though. Seemingly unrelated pieces of this ethereal puzzle can be stitched together with a keen eye. Someone made a video on it and concluded it was about motherhood.

After watching this perspective, this reading seems obvious. With all the disjointed umbilical cords, births, abortions, and blood. It’s a proper reproductive horror.

To me, JJK resembles Bloodborne in that way. And after I was granted the eyes to see, I’ve noticed that this body horror has been here as early as JJK 0.

In fact JJK 0 and first chapter feature female characters being groped by curses. (Sometimes the word Geto uses for violated can be translated as rape.)

Motherhood, and everything that causes it, is something JJK uses as a vehicle to discuss the undiscussable—bodily autonomy and its loss for exploitation. Rather than presenting it as something we’re familiar with, it’s a symbolic, pervasive theme in how the bodies of others are seen as tools for those in power.

The organs and bodies of those who can become pregnant are twisted into things that inflict pain. In the case of Naoya, he quite literally becomes a cunt that torments the surviving twin of the girl he molested.

And his hand sign references a deity who manipulates bodies in the womb, changing females to males.

It’s never quite stated outright or even properly addressed by the characters, but you still feel that sickening pit. There’s something fundamentally wrong with the way things are. Why is so little being done about it?

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

the thing is, in my crippled opinion, i think we're missing something when pointing at art that's inaccessible in various (including dangerous) ways and saying there's no reason for it to exist. in that like, yes, nobody needs to play a game that needs such intense motor coordination skills that even fully abled players take years of practice to finish the full game, and nobody needs to look at a webcomic where the colors are so saturated they leave the site with a massive headache, and nobody needs to risk death via latent-seizure-disorder by watching a movie with intense red-blue color flashes.

but some people like those experiences, for whatever reasons. some people enjoy doing things that are uncomfortable, risky, and even harmful, like getting choked by their sex partners, or belay-free mountain climbing, or going to a concert with a ton of flashing lights. so it's incredibly low-hanging fruit for someone to be like "but there is a reason. me. the target demographic. i am the reason this art exists" and like. that's real!

which is why i tend to aim my cripple bitching more towards accurate content warnings and diversity of media. i'm not trying to remove all video games that require extremely fast reflexes from existence; i just think video games that are accessible to people with the worst hand-eye coordination known to man should also be able to get made with equal amounts of funding and structural support (and also i really want IP law to shift enough that mods of existing games that change the skills necessary + entirely retooled spinoff games that focus on entirely different skillsets can exist without constantly being under attack from IP holders like nintendo). i'm not trying to take away the spiderverse movies as they currently exist; i just want all of their advertising plus the movie itself to contain warnings for flashing lights and other seizure triggers.

and this isn't even a compromise, to me; i don't see any reason things that are unpleasant and dangerous to me shouldn't exist for other people. but like, i am extremely kinkbrained and that's probably where this mindset comes from. it's very hard to be like "something that could possibly kill me shouldn't exist even if other people like doing it with fully informed consent!" when i just listened with great interest the other night to my discussion group partner describing an actual crucifixion scene she attended.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Was thinking about how, when asked, ST2 Killer said he “dislikes everything.” Got me thinking how he struggles to feel genuine joy or happiness by much. But also how he’s a dissociative character with complex trauma, and how his triggers might seem “small” and his reactions would appear disproportionate to the situation to those who don’t know his trauma history.

Like, he probably eats food and doesn’t actually feel anything about it—it doesn’t inspire joy unless it’s something he’s never tasted or seen before, until the buzzing dopamine of “something new” wears off—it all taste the same most of the time to him, even if his body reacts differently.

Things like ketchup and chocolate can get his body reacting to just the smell of it, trembling and sweating; flashbacks and throwing up if he tries to consume any of it. He avoids those steadfast, his body clearly remembering that anything associated with those things—with Sans—is a big, big, big NO-NO. (The aching in his bones is suddenly so sharp, the stinging pain of a knife digging in between cracked ribs, willing to painstakingly take him apart if he questions his maker further.)

But I wouldn’t be surprised if his body reacts that way to most food; simply because it’s used to either being forced to go without any, or being forced to take more than it can handle. And I doubt ST2 truly stops to care about any of that.

He won’t eat if he doesn’t have to, he’s not attached to the body and doesn’t much care if it starts lagging behind—apathy drowns out nearly every sensation. If Nightmare orders him to, or if Chara did, he’d do it in a rather robotic fashion because it’s an objective to be completed—not seemingly noticing the way his body shakes with every bite of food and how he has to force his jaw to unclench.

Somatic flashbacks, I suppose. Every time he eats, his body instinctively wants to gag it all back up—phantom sensations of claws (nails, nails that felt like claws) digging into the jawbone to keep the mouth open, the throat burning. Sometimes they would crack under the strain of trying to keep them clenched together, prevent anymore from going down.

But despite how strange it could be to watch Killer eat and physically tremble, he still does it as if he isn’t quivering in his seat—probably doing something like scrolling on his phone as he eats, his eyes dead and his grin empty, clearly just dissociating and not actually aware of it.

But he doesn’t stop until the food is all gone or until Nightmare tells him to, even if some of the food might be thrown up later. He’s unlikely to remember much of meal times when thinking about it later, especially if he’s eating alone that evening.

It might get easier to adapt once his body slowly comes to realize that its intake isn’t going to be violently denied or enforced, but it’d likely tremble and shake anytime someone has to order or convince Killer to eat for his own good.

Especially if anyone’s watches him eat too intensely, because his mind and body register it as a command regardless and he instinctively wants to shut down and retreat inside whenever he feels like he has no choice but to do something he doesn’t want to do.

(To anyone else it isn’t that big of a deal, but to someone who had no choice for most of their remembered life, he’s hypersensitive to signs of authority. He’s just gotten good at managing to convince himself that he wants it too; to sink into that apathetic, blank state and convince himself he doesn’t care and to just get it over with.

But it’s best to be careful not to put too much pressure or make him feel cornered if you aren’t Nightmare, that’s a recipe for triggering ST3 if ST2 doesn’t view you as someone he takes orders from. AKA, if you aren’t Nightmare.)

It’d be a lot easier if there’s people around for Killer to make conversation with while he eats, allows him the dopamine kick whenever the topic breaches onto a topic he’d never discussed before—which in turns allows him to actually taste and enjoy food, which keeps the good sensations of “something new” going in loops for a bit. All in all; just don’t let this man escape into his own head when eating, and don’t point how his hands are uncontrollably shaking.

I’d imagine that he actually has an easier time caring for the body while in ST4 for extended periods of time, performing routine maintenance, simply because ST4 views the body as belonging to Chara and its ‘killer’ programming doesn’t allow harm to the body that doesn’t come from Chara or those affiliated with them(heart locket.) Keeping sharp and ready for whatever fashion Chara intends to wield their weapon.

[mxckiemxn]

An ask request please like it's a doctor jungkook x reader au

Really don't know from where it came from 😅

I loved this omg! Sorry it took me so long to get to 😅. I hope you enjoy, love! ~Mackie 💜

Pairing: Doctor!Jungkook x reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing, mentions of blood, bad breakup, the whole thing happens in a doctor's office, kinda angsty, brief mentions of-sex, alcohol, and tobacco (checkup questions)

@rkive-joonie

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

You sat in the waiting room, subconsciously tapping your foot against the floor as you scrolled through your phone. You hated going to the doctor’s office. Something about the entire experience triggered anxiety to brew within you. Maybe it was the way that the air felt heavier in the building. Maybe it was the sterile smell that lingered, or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t go to the doctor without being reminded of your ex. Regardless, you avoided it whenever you could.

Your ex, Jungkook, was a doctor. The two of you had been high school sweethearts, and you never thought that your relationship would end. I mean, both of you frequently discussed marriage and building a family together. That dream slowly dwindled to dust as the two of you got older. Something about his work weighed heavily on him. He began bringing his work home with him, and as a result, he dumped it onto you. Suddenly, the couple who never fought over anything was now fighting every day.

The breakup was intense. You believed that you’d never get over him, and nearly three years later, that appeared to be true. Jungkook, however, moved on pretty quickly with one of his associates. The pair ended up moving to another city together, and it left you feeling hopeless. It felt as if your world had crumbled and that you’d never recover. Luckily, after the initial shock wore off, the fact that you wouldn’t have to worry about running into him helped you to find your footing once again. Slowly, you learned to let him go. No matter how much it hurt.

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice called out, causing you to look up from your phone. She smiled brightly as she motioned for you to come with her.

The woman led you to a room where she began performing the basic tests to prepare you for the doctor. She asked you all of the usual questions that made you want to roll your eyes. Giving you a bit of a side-eye when you told her that you weren’t sexually active, or that you barely drank, or that you didn’t use tobacco. The whole nine yards.

She stood up as she concluded the tests, before opening the door and hanging a clipboard on it.

“Dr.Jeon will be with you shortly.” She said in a cheery tone before stepping out, causing you to freeze.

Dr.Jeon? You thought. There’s absolutely no way. There’s got to be thousands of Dr.Jeons right?

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

The anxiety that you were already feeling was now elevated. You thought about just leaving. Running out of the door and never looking back. You could always find a new doctors office to go to. Soon enough, your thoughts seized as the sound of the door opening caused you to look up nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” The man’s voice greeted you.

In that moment, you wanted to break down and cry. He looked exactly the same as he did when he left you. His eyes were still bright. He still wore that beautiful smile that made you melt. He was still your Jungkook.

“H-hi.” You stuttered.

“It’s good to see you.” He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his tone that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Yeah, you too.” You sighed as you looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers.

Much to your surprise, he didn’t immediately take a seat in front of the computer. Instead, he pulled up his chair so that he was sitting directly in front of you as you sat on the examination table.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, leaning down in an attempt to look you in the eyes.

In a matter of moments, everything began coming back. All the sadness and anger flooded within you and your eyes began burning with tears. You quickly wiped them away though. You didn’t want him to see you break. The desire to run was at an all time high, but you couldn’t. You felt cornered and although he wasn’t literally holding you hostage, you felt as if you were trapped.

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” You snapped as you looked up at him. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came back.” He sighed. “I made a big mistake. I should’ve never even left.”

“Well, you did. And you ran off with your associate without a second thought.”

“It wasn’t like that, Y/N.” He whispered.

“Then what was it, Jungkook? Do you have any idea how badly you hurt me?” Your voice cracked.

“I know, Y/N, and I am so sorry for everything. If I could take it all back, I would. Please, believe me.” He said as his own eyes appeared to be filling with tears.

“Why did you run away?” You questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I thought that I’d get over you sooner. I thought that if I forced myself to be with someone else, that I wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. I was wrong, Y/N. It just made me feel worse.” He admitted, tears now falling from his eyes.

You wanted to wipe his tears away and hold him. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine and that you forgave him, but it wasn’t fine and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. No matter how much you tried not to be, you were still so angry with him.

“It might’ve made you feel worse, Jungkook, but think about how shitty and disposable you made me feel.” You told him.

“I know, baby.” He whispered as he gently embraced your hands within his own. Quickly correcting himself. “I mean, Y/N. I know and I’ll never forgive myself for that. If I could go back in time and fix everything, I would. I would give up everything if it meant that I could have you again.” He finished, squeezing your hands gently.

As you looked into his eyes, all of the anger and resentment you felt towards him began to fade. Sincerity was written all over his face and you knew how much this breakup had affected him too. You weren’t sure if you could even really blame him for how he attempted to move on. You needed isolation, whereas he needed company.

“I would never ask you to give up everything, Jungkook.” You sighed as your thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand.

“I know you wouldn’t, but if that’s what it takes then so be it. Just give me a chance to make it right, Y/N. Let me prove to you that I can do better. I still love you. I never stopped.” He pleaded.

“I still love you too, Jungkook.” You began.

You felt as if you had a demon on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The demon telling you to cuss him out and leave him sitting in this room. The angel telling you to follow your heart and to give him another chance to make things right. Ultimately, the angel was winning.

“We can try again, but not where we left off. I want us to start from the beginning.” You told him. You’d changed so much since the breakup and you could only imagine that he had as well.

“I can work with that.” He smiled brightly, causing you to giggle at how happy he looked.

“Good. Now, let’s not forget that I came here for a checkup.” You laughed, suddenly remembering what brought you here in the first place.

“Right!” He quickly stood up and gathered himself.

He completed the rest of the examination. Refusing to let a nurse take over when you needed your blood drawn. He was going to take care of you, and no one else was going to get in the middle of that.

As the appointment came to an end, he helped you stand up from the table. Your arms resting on his shoulders as his hands kept a protective hold on your waist. You weren’t sure if it was appropriate, but you didn’t care. As his deep brown eyes stared down at you, the feeling became overwhelming. So, you gave into it. Slowly leaning up and connecting your lips with his own.

The kiss was brief, but it held all of the longing and regret that the two of you had felt over the last three years.

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

After checking out, Jungkook insisted on walking to your car. The two of you agreed to go on your “first” date tonight. Giving you a chance to really get to know each other once again.

“So, I’ll see you later.” He smiled. His hands rested in the pockets of his white jacket as he shifted his weight from the front to the back of his heels. A nervous tick you’d caught onto throughout the years.

“See you later, Jungkook.” You said, quickly giving him another kiss before getting into your car.

He watched as you pulled away, waving at you until your car was no longer in sight. Things would never be exactly the same as they once had been between you two, but that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered is that you were trying again. Leaving the past in the past and focusing on the future as you built a new connection. One that was stronger and more secure. One that couldn’t be broken.

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

[theenchantresx]

Shadows of the Crown

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC Reader

Trigger Warnings: Violence and war (discussions of bloodshed, massacres), Emotional manipulation, Psychological trauma and guilt, Grief and loss (discussion of family betrayal, loss of loved ones), Mentions of past abuse and cruelty, Toxic relationships

Word Count: 3,500 words

All images are taken from Pinterest: credits to the original owners

The halls of the Red Keep were darker than usual, dimmed not just by the oncoming twilight but by the heavy weight of tension that seemed to seep into every corner. War loomed over the Seven Kingdoms like an ill-fated storm, and its cold winds had finally reached King's Landing. As Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen was supposed to be the pillar of strength, but even steel cracks under enough pressure.

The fire of his kin was burning him alive.

You had been one of the few who could still approach him without fear of being dismissed. Though "approach" was a loose term—he never truly allowed anyone close, not since he had turned his back on his family. His eye, the one left unscathed, was hard as dragonstone whenever you stood before him. And the one that was lost, now replaced by the sapphire, seemed even colder.

Tonight was no different.

You found Aemond in the council chamber, the stench of conspiracies still lingered in the air. Maps, letters, and spilled wine cluttered the table before him, untouched since the maesters had delivered the latest reports. He stood by the window, tall and rigid, the flames of the fireplace casting flickering shadows against his sharp features.

"You’ve come again," Aemond said without turning around. His voice was like poisoned honey, slow, sharp, and dangerous. "I do wonder, have you come to scold me like the rest of them?"

You stepped forward cautiously, sensing the sharp edge of his temper beneath the calm. "I didn't come to scold. I came because you're alone, Aemond. And you know it."

He turned then, slowly, his single violet eye locking onto you. He was regal, tall, a figure that inspired both awe and fear, but the cruelty in his gaze had grown over time—thicker, more consuming, as if the loss of his family’s loyalty had stripped away the last of his humanity.

"Alone?" He chuckled darkly, stepping toward you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart pound. "It is a crown that sits heavy, not companionship I seek. I need no one."

"You've turned everyone against you," you said, keeping your voice steady despite his approach. "Your family, the council, even those who once supported you. What will your rule be, Aemond, if there's no one left to support you?"

He stopped just inches from you, looming over you like the shadow of Vhagar herself. His lips curled in a bitter, mocking smile. "You think I seek fairness? To be a king like my brother? Weak, foolish Aegon… he was an idiot, and where did that get him, hmm? I will not make the same mistake."

The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable, but you didn’t back down. "And what will your cruelty gain you? Fear? Power? They’re fragile things, Aemond. They slip through your fingers the moment you think you have control. There’s no peace in ruling with only fire and blood."

His smile faltered, just for a moment, but enough for you to see the weariness beneath the façade. Aemond turned away sharply, stalking back to the window with a frustrated exhale. "Peace?" he spat the word as if it were poison. "There is no peace, not for men like me. Only war and treachery. The time for peace ended when my family betrayed me. When they left me to burn in the fires of their ambitions."

"You’ve betrayed them too," you said quietly, knowing it was a risk to push him further. "Your mother, your sister, your brother… You abandoned your house loyalty for what? To avenge wrongs you suffered as a child? To prove you matter because having the biggest and oldest dragon isn't enough? And where did all this lead you?"

Aemond’s hands gripped the windowsill so tightly you could see his knuckles whiten. His back was to you, but you could feel the violent tension rolling off him. "They never saw me," he whispered, low and venomous. "Not truly. I was always the second son, the lesser, the shadow of Aegon. And now they would dare question my rule?"

"They did see you, Aemond. Perhaps not in the way you wanted, but they cared about you in their own twisted way. You still have time to make this right. You don’t have to—"

"Enough!" He whirled on you, his patience snapping. The rage in his eye was feral, unhinged, as if your words had struck a nerve too deep to bear. He advanced on you again, his tone icy. "You think I will grovel before them, beg for their forgiveness? I am Aemond Targaryen, the rider of Vhagar, the right ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. I will not be questioned by anyone. Not by my family, not by you."

His hand shot out and gripped your arm, firm but not painful, though the threat lingered in the air between you. His touch was cold, as though all the warmth had been leeched from him by the cruelty he had embraced.

"I am not here to question you," you said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I’m here because I know you. Beneath all this, I know there’s a part of you that doesn't want to rule like this. You’re stronger than the hatred you’re clinging to, Aemond."

His eye searched yours for a long, agonizing moment, as if trying to find some weakness, some opening to crush. And yet, he hesitated. His grip on your arm tightened, but his face betrayed something you hadn’t seen in him for a long time—doubt.

For a heartbeat, you thought he might let go, that the cruelty might crack, but then he released you abruptly and turned his back once more. The coldness returned, the wall between you rising higher than before.

"You think you understand me," he said, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. "But you’re wrong. I will not bend. And you’d be wise to remember your place."

You stood in silence, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a cloak of frost. There was still a glimmer of hope, buried deep beneath his anger and pride, but it was slipping away, just as he was.

"If you continue down this path, Aemond," you said softly, taking a step back, "you’ll end up with nothing but ashes in your hands."

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The silence between you spoke volumes, and as you turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just witnessed the last flicker of light before the darkness consumed him entirely.

Perhaps one day he would see reason. Or perhaps, like his dragon, he would only ever know how to burn.

And if that day came, you feared even you might not be able to save him.

The door creaked behind you, the weight of your words still heavy in the air, but Aemond's silence held you rooted to the spot for a moment longer. You had seen the fleeting doubt in him, but that spark was suffocated as quickly as it had surfaced. His back remained turned, his gaze locked on the darkening horizon beyond the Red Keep’s windows.

You lingered by the threshold, hesitating. Leaving him like this—angry, alone—felt like sealing his fate. The civil war had already claimed too much; if Aemond fell further into his madness, there might be nothing left to salvage.

“I dreamt of Harrenhal,” you said softly, not quite looking at him. “Before the war… before all of this.”

Aemond stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. The mere mention of Harrenhal twisted something in him, something raw. You had struck another nerve, deeper than the last.

“I’ve seen the ruins in those dreams. I’ve seen you there, standing in the ashes.”

Still, no response. His silence was damning.

You took a breath and pressed on, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "That place… Harrenhal… it broke something in you, didn’t it?"

At that, Aemond finally turned, his single eye narrowing dangerously. “Broke me? Do not presume to know what I endured there.” His voice was a low growl, filled with a venomous bite. “Harrenhal did not break me. It forged me.”

There was a cold pride in his tone, but beneath it, you heard something else—something darker. You had heard the rumors, the whispers of what had happened at Harrenhal when Aemond had claimed the cursed castle. There had been blood, fire, and a cruelty even you had not imagined he was capable of.

“I know what you did there,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “The executions, the massacre. The blood on your hands… and for what, Aemond? What did it gain you?"

He stepped closer, the firelight catching the gleam of his sapphire eye. “It gained me control. Fear. Power.”

“Power built on ash,” you countered, your voice steady despite the cold dread pooling in your chest. "You didn’t need to kill all those people, Aemond. They weren’t your enemies; they were just… there.”

“They were in my way,” he said, as if that justified everything.

You shook your head, fighting the urge to step back from him. "The blood of innocents isn’t a price worth paying for your throne. Harrenhal… it’s cursed, you know that. It’s been a ruin since the day it was built, and now you carry that curse with you."

Aemond’s lip curled in a sneer. "Cursed? Don’t speak to me of superstitions. I don’t fear ghosts, nor do I fear the weight of my decisions. I did what needed to be done. And if I have to do it again, I will."

“You’ve become as cursed as the place itself,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “And it’s driving you mad.”

For a moment, his sneer faltered, and you caught a glimpse of something else—an unease that flickered in his eye before it hardened again. He was quick to push it down, burying it beneath layers of bitterness and pride.

Aemond turned away from you, pacing the room like a caged dragon. “I am not mad,” he hissed, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. “I see clearly, clearer than I ever have before. I see the weakness in my family. I see the cowardice in their hearts.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, frustration swelling with each word he spoke. “This isn’t about your family anymore, Aemond! This is about you. You’ve let your hatred consume you.”

“Hate is all I have left,” he said, his voice a quiet, dangerous whisper. “What else do you expect me to hold onto? Love? Forgiveness?”

His eyes bored into yours with a cold, mocking intensity, and you could see the bitterness in them—the pain he refused to admit, even to himself. He was a prince surrounded by shadows, a ruler with a kingdom of ash beneath his feet.

But there was something else—something that hadn’t been spoken of yet.

“Helaena…” you said, and Aemond’s jaw tightened visibly at the sound of her name. “She saw all of this before it happened, didn’t she? The blood, the war… the destruction of your family. She tried to warn you.”

The mere mention of Helaena seemed to crack something in him. He turned sharply, his voice trembling with a barely-contained fury. “Do not speak of my sister.”

“She loved you, Aemond. Despite all, she tried to save you with her prophecies, but you wouldn’t listen—”

“Her words were riddles,” he spat, advancing on you again. “Nonsense! How could she save me when she could barely save herself?”

You could hear the agony beneath his anger now, the guilt he tried so desperately to hide. Helaena’s death had wounded him more deeply than any battlefield loss, and you knew he carried the weight of it like a chain around his neck.

“Helaena wasn’t mad, Aemond. You know that. She saw things none of us could. She warned you—she saw this war, saw the death that would come if you continued down this path. And yet you ignored her, even when you knew she spoke the truth.”

Aemond’s face twisted with grief, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by a mask of cold indifference. “It’s too late now. Helaena is gone. And her words…” He trailed off, his voice low and bitter. “They mean nothing anymore: I faced death and I'm still here.”

“They mean everything, Aemond.” You stepped closer, your voice urgent. “You’ve become the one that destroys everything it touches.”

He recoiled at that, as if your words had struck him harder than any blade. For a moment, you saw the raw, wounded soul beneath the cruel mask he wore, the boy who had once been overshadowed by his brother, by his family. But that boy was long gone, buried beneath layers of hatred and vengeance.

“I am a Targaryen, a rider of dragons, a ruler by fire and blood. I will not be cowed by whispers and riddles.”

You could feel the distance between you growing once more, the coldness settling in the room like a thick fog. Aemond had buried his humanity beneath the weight of his ambition, and no matter how hard you tried to reach him, the walls he had built around himself were too high to scale.

“If you continue like this,” you said softly, your voice filled with a deep sorrow, “you’ll end up destroying everything, just like Harrenhal. There’ll be nothing left but ruins.”

Aemond stood in silence, staring at the darkened horizon beyond the window, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could see the war raging within him—the battle between the man he had once been and the monster he was becoming.

But in the end, the shadows won.

“Leave me,” he said coldly, his voice distant. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”

Your heart ached as you looked at him, knowing that you had lost him to the darkness. There was no reasoning with him now, no way to pull him back from the edge.

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the room, the weight of your failure pressing down on you. You had tried to save him, but Aemond had already chosen his path.

And it was a path that led only to destruction.

You paused again at the door, Aemond’s cold command echoing in your mind. Your hand hovered over the handle, but you couldn’t leave. Not like this. The ache in your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled from your lips, raw and trembling.

"Am I nothing to you?"

Your voice cut through the heavy silence, and for a moment, it seemed to still the air in the room. Aemond’s back remained to you, his figure unmoving by the window, but the tension in his posture deepened, like a bowstring pulled too tight.

He didn’t respond immediately, and you took a tentative step forward, your heart hammering in your chest. "After everything… after all these years… do I mean nothing to you? Or am I just another piece to be cast aside like the others?"

Aemond’s head tilted slightly, but he still refused to look at you. You could see his fingers tightening around the windowsill, white-knuckled with restrained anger. His silence felt heavier than any response he could have given.

"I stood by you when no one else would. I tried to understand you when even your family turned away. And yet, here I am, begging for the smallest scrap of the man I thought I knew." Your voice trembled, but you pressed on. "Am I nothing, Aemond? Is that what I am to you?"

At last, Aemond turned to face you, and the coldness in his eye sent a shiver through your spine. The firelight flickered across his sharp features, casting deep shadows that only made him look more like the ruthless dragonlord he had become. But in that moment, there was something else, buried beneath the layers of cruelty—a flicker of guilt, of something he couldn’t admit.

“You presume too much,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. “You think your presence here makes you special? That your words can change what I have become?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. "I thought I was more than just another voice in the crowd, Aemond. I thought I mattered to you. But maybe I was wrong."

His eye flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—rage, perhaps, or regret. It was fleeting, but enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

"You do not understand," Aemond said through gritted teeth, his tone laced with frustration. "You cannot understand. There is no room for sentiment, not in this war, not in my world. Feelings, loyalty, love—they are weaknesses, chains that bind me to the past. I cannot afford them."

You felt the sting of his words, but you refused to back down. "You think you’re strong by pushing everyone away, by cutting yourself off from the people who care about you? That’s not strength, Aemond. That’s fear."

His expression darkened, and he took a step toward you, his presence looming like a shadow. "Fear?" he scoffed. "Do you think I fear anything? I’ve faced dragons, war, betrayal, and you think this frightens me?"

"I think you’re afraid of feeling anything at all," you whispered, holding his gaze despite the storm you saw brewing in his eye. "You’re terrified that if you let yourself care, if you let yourself be human for one moment, everything you’ve built will come crashing down."

Aemond’s face twisted with a mix of anger and something far more vulnerable. "You know nothing of what I’ve built, what I’ve sacrificed. My family, my blood, all of it—gone. I have no place for softness, no place for—"

"For me?" you interrupted, your voice breaking. "Is that it? You have no place for me in your life anymore, either?"

For a long, excruciating moment, Aemond didn’t respond. His eye locked onto yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw something—some hint of the man you used to know, the man who had once allowed you close. But whatever softness had flickered in him was quickly smothered by the cold, unyielding mask of the prince regent.

He stepped back, his expression hardening once more. “You are asking questions you don’t want answers to.”

The cold dismissal in his tone was like a blade to your chest, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not in front of him.

"So I’m nothing," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. The realization hit you like a cold wave, and you turned away, your hand gripping the door handle. "After all this time… I’m nothing."

You moved to leave, but before you could open the door, Aemond’s voice cut through the room, softer now, almost pained.

“You were never nothing to me.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the room seemed to freeze. You stopped, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. His voice, so controlled, so cold, had cracked, just for a moment. But it wasn’t enough—not after everything.

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes as the weight of his words settled over you. “You have a strange way of showing it.”

And with that, you opened the door and stepped out, leaving Aemond Targaryen standing in the shadow of the crown he had so ruthlessly claimed, alone with the weight of the choices he could never take back.

[palomahasenteredthechat]

My thoughts on AQPDO

So, did this image appear in the actual film? Yeah, that's what I thought...

I loved it, and I was disappointed by it. This is long, so buckle in. Major Spoilers discussed below.

First, the outstanding: the performances. Holy hell. Lupita. Just...her talent is breathtaking. To sustain that level of intensity without overdoing it, I am simply in awe. Well done. I hope some attention is paid to her performance when award season rolls around. Ditto Alex Wolff. He did a LOT with so little screentime. Djimon too; they all were so, so moving.

Joe was so heartbreaking, and yet Joe's character is one of the things I am disappointed about, because I needed more. Not because I love Joe, but because the story needed it. I know there was a backstory that was cut, and to be honest I don't think that was necessarily a poor decision, but the issue is it was cut late in the creative process, versus in the writing, and that is where the problem is. More on that in a bit, but Joe delivered a sensitive and moving performance, and really understated as well. Not a bit of the cheeky Joe we have come to love so much that also I think pops out in Eddie and Michael occasionally. He was wholly immersed in Eric's reality and his energy complimented Lupita's so well; you can see how much they worked off each other. Dare I say she elevated his game. Another marathon performance and I can imagine how exhausting it must be to sustain that.

Second, Michael Sarnoski, hats off to you sir. The pacing, the way you put the story together visually, your heartbreaking script, just so well done. I hope they release the shooting script because I would love to read it and see the words (or lack of) that Joe and Lupita interpreted so movingly. I wonder if Michael has processed the death of a parent recently, because I felt so much emotion from this story. This film is about accepting the inevitability of death, while going through the five stages of grief, yet seeking to live fully regardless. Trigger warning: DO NOT see this movie if you are going through a rough time with someone who is terminally ill. It will wreck you. But this film is tragically, beautifully human. To deliver that story in a Hollywood big budget action film is a hat trick. Every actor in Hollywood who wants to grow creatively should be calling their agents asking to work with Michael Sarnoski right now.

Also, shout out to the production design people. They completely suspended my disbelief that the characters weren't in New York. Set design, lighting, like I could SMELL New York. Virtual production is getting so fucking good - we're well past the Unreal Wall vistas of the Mandalorian. If you ask yourself how A24 could shoot an Iraq war movie in the pastoral hills of England this is your answer.

Now, the not so good.

Go back and watch the first and second trailers and tell me how many of those moments were in the movie. Answer: barely any.

Map claw hand? We have to get out of the city? Gay couple? Old man turning off engine? Nada.

So, was this all misdirection in the marketing, making the audience think they were coming to see a summer action movie? That's legit, trying to get butts in seats, but I have a strong feeling Michael delivered a very different movie that was hacked up in the testing process. All of those scenes probably made the movie feel 'too long', and they had to cut them back to balance the action sequences with the emotional sequences.

The helicopters overhead spelling out THEY CAN'T SWIM probably came from focus group comments where someone was like 'why didn't the aliens just cross the river and start eating people in New Jersey?' (good point). But I'll bet you they wanted to give Alex Wolff's character a more significant death in regard to Samira's emotional journey, so they reshot the scene with the old man turning off the engine and had Alex do it instead.

Also, I get the strong feeling Eric showed up in the story much earlier in the original cut of the film, and the scene with Map Claw Hand illustrates that. The big question regarding Eric is why this random sad British dude gloms on to Samira and I'm not sure they answer that question in the final cut. Joe absolutely sells it, but it doesn't make sense and I suspect it's because it wasn't written that way.

Also, and call me crazy, but I think Joe is wearing a wig in some parts of this movie and not in other parts. It would make sense if there were significant reshoots based on early testing of the film. I wonder if the Alien Lava Tiki Bar (what...was that actually) scene was added later. Like, I get why Eric went up there- actually I don't, I think Eric would have been focused on getting the medicine back to her and wouldn't have taken a detour up scaffolding to follow I cat at all, but that's just me.

Finally, let's talk about the cat. Both Schnitzel and Nico are exquisite and enjoyable to watch, though how no one got scratched or bitten by a disgruntled feline is a mystery. We had a long debate about whether The Cat Represents Samira's Life, or The Cat is An Angel, or Fate, but ultimately we just went with KITTY and that made the story more enjoyable.

Samira is on a quest, to die on her terms, and once she accepts her fate, she sheds the things that no longer matter to her, and in the process gives Eric a purpose. The scene in the jazz bar was so moving. The final shot is also incredibly moving, and I hope the city was filled with the sound of music one last time, a beautiful elegy accompanying her soul to heaven.

Bravo.

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | vol iv | vol v ]

firstprince fic recs: hurt/comfort edition! :D

some of these have more angst than others before the comfort, so please be sure to check the tags! but I tried to choose some of my personal favorites that I always return to when I need something comforting to read <3

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

+

talk me down | seafloor | G | 2k

It never gets easier, but with Alex, it’s less exhausting. [Henry gets triggered, and Alex is there for him.]

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Mr. Body Pillow | @inexplicablymine | T+ | 21k

Two boys cuddling on a couch right on top of each other because they are in fact very gay™. Inviting over a complete stranger for cuddles because you are touch starved might be the worst idea Henry has ever had, or the best.

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the clementine thing | @saintlynomenclature | T+ | 6k

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company. Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him. [Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor]

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sea of endless hope | acastle | E | 85k

Henry watches Alex, the man he adores and loves so ardently, and the moment is palpable, delicate, and yet too large for even the sky to contain. He watches Alex, and in that moment, he wants to be his husband, the ache and urge of it almost unbearable. “Daddy!” Nena takes Henry’s hands, and he looks down at her, the angel who had saved him, and he smiles at her, quiet with emotion, letting her lead him into place. He would follow her, follow Alex, anywhere. (Henry, Alex, and their daughter, and the first years of coming home, forever.)

you can see it with the lights out | weathersriley | G | 3k

Alex thinks of the water. Of feeling like he might never reach the surface, might never reach Henry. But Henry is here; Alex remembers falling asleep in the glow of his presence, and beneath his shaking fingers, Henry’s chest is warm and his heart is beating steadily and Henry is here. Alex is afraid, but Henry is here.

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I ask you how you're doing (and I let you lie) | @matherines | M | 6k

The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones. “God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.” [Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.]

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Aftercare | @whimsymanaged | M | 2k

When Alex has an intense hookup without aftercare, he finds himself on his best friend Henry’s doorstep in desperate need of looking after.

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Dream a Little Dream of Me | @affectionatelyrs | T+ | 9k

They’re no longer in the garden. There’s no grass, no flowers, no fireflies. Only stars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in an otherwise vast sea of darkness, dazzling and twinkling and here. “How—” “They came here for you,” Alex says, his voice light. “It’s what you desired. So, I asked them to come and shine. Just for you.” “But won’t the world need them?” Alex shrugs and simply says, “You need them more.” [Or, Five times Alex visits Henry in his dreams during his dark days, and one time he does so in the real world (and stays)]

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Burnt Offering | justicefortheJ14magazine | G | 9k

Alex’s hair care routine is elaborate, he struggles to let Henry help him, and he learns some important things about receiving love through service. [A look at FirstPrince’s love through each love language: Acts of Service]

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I would stay forever (if you say don't go) | @coffeecatsme | T+ | 6k

The words echo in his head, unbidden. The words from another life, practically another universe, shoved inside the small walls of a gilded cage, hidden in a room in London with shuttered windows and locked doors. A boy’s voice Henry still remembers ten years later, when he doesn’t quite remember what he had for lunch the day before. A boy’s voice on a phone that understood him better than every member of his family, even an ocean, a continent, three thousand miles away. A boy’s voice that told him in no uncertain terms that it was okay if he wasn’t okay, that allowed him to pave a path until he was. To open a new shelter in New York City, Henry needs to interview a host of potential lawyers to hire. He doesn't expect one of them to be the boy that saved his life ten years ago.

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Don't Give Up Your Ghost | @nocoastposts | G | 1k

Healing is not linear.   When Henry first heard this phrase, he brushed it off as a cliche. An evergreen proverb for those who didn’t know what else to say. As his anger morphed into crippling sadness, he began to understand the sentiment. Henry never knows when the grief will become all-consuming. A perfectly fine day can shatter instantly, with no preamble or warning given. The most trivial things - a scent, a laugh, a song - can utterly and completely devour him. Learning to accept the ebb and flow was not easy. He knows that the dark days will never cease completely. He also knows that Alex will brave the storm with him, time and time again. Henry is eternally grateful for this. [Or, Henry reflects on some common platitudes of grief - then and now.]

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outta luck to spend | potentiallyunloveable | T+ | 9k

“Nora ignorin’ ya?” a voice says from beside him, and Henry startles, turns to his left, is suddenly frozen. The man who’s slid into the seat next to him, silently, without Henry noticing, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Henry’s ever seen in his life. He’s got the widest smile, sweet dimples, soft brown skin and impossibly long eyelashes. He’s wearing a fucking Stetson, and Henry feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Or: Henry (lost, hopeless) meets Alex (bright, hopeful), in a bar in Texas.

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thunderstruck | @wordsofhoneydew | T+ | 2k

“Alex, slow down.” Henry pulls away softly from Alex’s taut grasp. “Are you feeling alright now?” “Y-yeah, I think I’m okay.” Alex smiles back meekly at Henry’s heedful gaze. Alex feels like he has gotten way ahead of himself. “I'm just a huge astraphobic, ever since I was little. I guess I never grew out of it.” [or, Alex has a fear of thunder so Henry comforts him]

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fell apart (in the usual way) | @hypnostheory | E | 12k

By the time they’ve reached the landing, Henry is shaking his arm out of Alex’s grip. “The picture of grace under fire,” he says, the words snapping from his mouth. Alex blinks at him, before his face smooths into its professional mask. “You can’t pick a fight with the Queen’s equerry, no matter how averse you are to the concept of the monarchy.” Alex looks Henry up at down, his mouth forming a tight line. “I don’t pick fights, Your Majesty,” he says, adjusting his grip on Henry’s suitcase. Henry can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Shaan called me a few weeks ago to go over every single thing that made you miserable about the holidays. It was a very long phone call.” Henry doesn’t doubt that. “I’m going to help you avoid as many of those items as possible.” [Henry is a mess around the holidays, and he's expecting to have a tremendously horrid time without Shaan. Fortunately, Alex has plans to make his Christmas both merry and bright.]

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ocean waves | seafloor | E | 10k

Henry Fox wakes up with a toothache one morning, and has a lot of feelings about certain things for days afterwards.

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I'd hold you as the water rushes in | @saintlynomenclature | M | 11k

“—lex. Alex.” Fuck. Where had his mind gone? Alex snaps his eyes to Henry’s, forcing his attention back from where it had drifted. “I’m listening, I’m listening. What were you saying?” Anyone else would probably be offended, or would just laugh at the clearly conflicting statements that had flown thoughtlessly out of his mouth. Instead, Henry’s brow crinkles, lips downturning as he scans Alex’s face. “Are you alright? You’ve been acting strange all night.” Those blue eyes are much easier to deal with through FaceTime. Alex has to look away from them, less he caves and spills everything to Henry. He pastes a smile on, “Fantastic, Your Highness. All this bubbly is going to my head, the sugar’ll get me in the morning.” [Or, Alex drops on New Year's Eve]

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never be so polite (you forget your power) | Standinginmoonlight | M | 6k

The one where Arthur Fox leaves letters for his children.

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while you were sleeping (I fell in love) | @kill8a | M | 3k

As their relationship progresses, Alex notices that Henry’s sleeping habits start to progress as well. Notably, more naps, less insomnia, and a knack for falling asleep at any hour of the day.

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that's all for now!

hurt/comfort is one of my all time favorite tropes, so feel free to rec me some if they aren't on this list, or to reach out with ideas for other rec lists in the future! <3

-- sarah / anincompletelist xx

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 8/9

(please see tags for trigger warnings)

[first three chapters] [AO3]

============<×^-^×>============

It had been a long time since Bruce had been this unbalanced by the thought of a conversation. He was unafraid to admit, if only to himself, that he was terrified about the kinds of things he'd hear from the young woman now sitting across from him. On the way to his office, he'd asked her if she felt safe and comfortable talking to him by herself, or if she'd prefer having his youngest adopted son sit in with them, and while she was understandably hesitant to let an unknown fifteen year old sit in on their discussion, he'd also seen the way she'd unconsciously relaxed when she saw Tim walk in.

"Before we start, my name is Timothy Drake-Wayne, please call me Tim, and you have permission to hug me, cling to me, cry on me, or even squeeze my hand tight enough to break it. Whatever you need to do to get through this discussion. I'll even leave for snacks if you need to say something intensely personal or that you feel I shouldn't hear," his son said with a small, supportive smile. Bruce was so proud of Tim, he'd come so very far since first coming to them. "I'm very well used to standing in as an emotional support person when a foster kid gets comfortable enough with Bruce to want to tell him exactly what happened wherever they'd been before coming here, and I'm perfectly content to keep doing so for as long as I live here."

Bruce watched as Jazz processed everything Tim said and caught the question in her gaze before she'd even opened her mouth to speak it. "Tim has decided he wants to work with CPS when he gets older, take his own experiences with the system and use them to help improve it. I do whatever I can to help him, to help any of the children who find themselves in my care, achieve his dreams," he explained softly, pride warming his heart and voice. "I'm not sure how well you remember him, but my first adopted son, Dick, recently decided to open his own gymnastics studio here in Gotham. His experience with you and Danny when you lived with us really left an impression."

Jazz nodded in understanding before glancing at Tim, reached for his hand, and took a fortifying breath. "My—the Fentons are… scientists, inventors, innovators, they—they discovered, independently, an entire species of interdimensional beings with incredible powers and such a rich mixture of cultures, and… and they decided those beings were unnatural, that they were evil and needed to be experimented on and exterminated. They created a portal to these beings' home dimension in our basement without following any sort of safety regulations or protocols." Jazz took another breath, swallowing as she looked down at hold on Tim's hand. "Th-the green on me and Danny when we first got here, it's called ectoplasm. It's basically the lifeblood of these beings, it makes up almost their entire bodies. Their dimension is full of it, as any excess they produce gets shed off into the environment around them.

"When the Fentons created their portal into the Infinite Realms, they didn't realize they'd installed a secondary switch that also needed to be flicked for the thing to work. A switch that was on the inside of the portal shaft and could only be reached by physically going inside it." She shuddered as she tried to bite back tears. "I wasn't home at the time. I was tutoring a fellow student in English at the local fast food joint. Danny was at home with his two best friends. Mom and dad had left the day before to track down the supposed "ghost" that had caused their magnum opus to fail to work. He should have been safe.

"I got a frantic phone call from Danny's friend, Tucker, telling me I needed to get home ASAP, that Danny'd had an accident and wasn't waking up. The student I was tutoring asked me what I was waiting for, to get going, and so I did. I—by the time I got back to the house, Sam and Tucker had managed to drag Danny away from the portal, but i-it was pretty obvious what the accident was, I mean… the portal hadn't been on before I left…"

Bruce had a bad feeling about where this story was going. He'd seen the product of lab accidents too often to be able to con himself into thinking it could be going in any other direction. He almost stopped her from continuing, but while she was very obviously distressed, the process of telling him, of telling them, seemed to actually be doing her some good, so he kept his silence and watched as she clenched Tim's hand even harder for a brief second before relaxing her grip almost entirely.

"Sam was fussing over Danny's prone form, trying to make him more comfortable on the steel flooring without moving him too much, while Tucker was pacing between the two of them and the swirling mass of green that was the portal when I got there. As soon as they saw me, Tucker was on me with tears in his eyes. "We thought he'd died," he said. "The screaming—we thought he was dead. We're so sorry, he could have died—we're so unbelievably sorry,"" Jazz quoted with a strained voice. "Sam's makeup was running from how much she was crying. Sam never cries, and there she was, kneeling over my barely breathing baby brother, nearly sobbing in terror and guilt. They—Sam had apparently dared Danny to go inside so they could get a picture, and while in there, Danny tripped, and he hit the secondary switch. The Fentons had apparently not turned the other switch off after the thing didn't work the first time, and Danny ended up paying the price of their stupidity. He was alive, he'd survived, but now he's rightfully terrified of anything to do with electricity above what comes out of your stranded wall outlet. Only, come to find out, Danny hadn't survived. Not entirely… not unchanged."

Knew it, Bruce thought wearily as he leaned back in his chair. He resisted the urge to rub his hand across his face or run it through his hair and instead just continued to listen to Jazz's tale.

"The combination of all that electricity running through him, killing him, as a portal made pretty much entirely of ectoplasm opened up literally right on top of him changed Danny on a molecular level. He's no longer fully human. He's now something called a halfa, half human and half… half ghost."

============<×^-^×>============

FINALLY got that finished! I sincerely apologize for not getting this out yesterday, I had to take a general health day due to both my lactose intolerance realizing, three days after the fact, that I'd eaten dairy and decided it didn't like that at all, and my sleep schedule being crap the past two days (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠) that's why today's post says "day 8/9", I'm counting it for both days since I *did* start writing it yesterday (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

For anyone reading this directly after day 6 but hasn't read any of the reblogs of day 6, this is actually chapter 4 of this fic, not chapter 2. I have two amazing co-writers who have each written an amazing chapter for this fic, which can be more easily read on AO3 by hitting the link up at the top!

Also, due to this fic having two co-writers for it, from now on, when I post a new chapter for it here on Tumblr, I won't be linking back to my previous chapter, since there will be two chapters between each of my own. Instead, I'll be linking back to the first post back on day 6 and to the AO3 version, where the entire fic will be readily available for reading.

Also also, because this is being co-written, any and all updates for this fic will be highly sporadic at best. Please don't harass me or my co-writers for quicker updates, we're all very busy people working together to write this purely for fun.

Have a wonderful morning/day/night everyone!

[freckliedan]

jam do you think we're getting BIG 2 (Basically I'm Gender)?

hi teo this is a: really good question. here's the thing. i can have an answer for you but first i have to explain that it's not a prediction up to my usual standards and why?

because. my usual standards are very high. in 2017/18 it was easy? there was no break in data for us to pattern recognize them based off of. and i took them for their word on things + was able to refine my thoughts in conversations with @freckliephil to the point it was somewhat uncanny what we were right about.

we fully called that dan and phil would come out in separate videos with something longer & more serious from dan + shorter and less intense from phil a year to a year and a half before they came out. we'd discussed that the bullying dan experienced included a physical aspect and that that was the reason having his neck touched by people was triggering before ii toured. the list of detailed things we were right about goes on for a stupid length of time.

and it's just not possible to predict what they're doing next in the same way in this era! in 2018/19 they had been in the public eye for their entire adult lives and we have an excess of information from those 10 years! but now it's been five years—a third of their relationship—without that kind of data.

they didn't vanish completely but dan spent that time as out of the public eye as possible, phil has always been better with keeping his walls up, and we had absolute minimal joint content.

they were able to change massively AND AUTHENTICALLY when free from public scrutiny. especially dan! and we just don't have the fucking data to use for accurate pattern recognition in making predictions anymore.

there's still aspects of who dan and phil are as people that haven't changed and never will, and we have the era of complete data on them to compare the present to. so like. it's not fully impossible to predict things. there's definitely areas in which it's possible to make accurate predictions. but in no world will i claim my thoughts on dan addressing gender is one of them!

that said. even if i cannot confidently predict the details of what's coming with dan gender, it's as clear to me that dan has gender going on as it is that he is gay. that's a fact to me because i am in the practice of taking dan for her word.

when it comes to predictions here's where i'm at. i'm completely confident gender mentions will continue to escalate. i also think that at some point dan's going to comment directly on their gender. but i go back and forth on whether a dan gender video essay will ever exist? and so do @freckliephil and @phulge when we discuss this.

i think dan always puts a lot of thought into things, enough so to make a video essay on gender viable for him. if she waits like a year i could see that being what happens?

but on the other hand. i do not think that gender exploration is as charged and significant in dan's life as their gayness. he experienced so much trauma around how people percieved his sexuality from childhood onwards!

gender is difficult to navigate in a cisnormative society and almost always impossible to separate from sexuality but i don't think it's something that she would be inclined to make into as big of a moment & conversation as basically i'm gay.

it could be something as simple as pronouns in bio i suppose? but if so i think it would be commented on at the start of the next gaming channel video too. the biggest thing i can picture is phil starting to quite clearly use different pronouns for dan in different gaming channel videos in a way that's just. very normal about it. a "this is an everyday occurence" way. + this being consistant with the way dan genders themself too.

i do see this happening sooner than a year from now, but i don't know for sure when? pride is a convenient time for it. i think there's a 100% chance they're doing something insane this month, in part because they fucking LOVE dramatic timing and big gestures.

i don't think dan gender will be the main focus of what happens this month, but i'm open to being pleasantly surprised.

i think they're hard launching this year, this month or in october. i think wedding photos being shared is one of the more likely hard launch options. and i think if they're wedding launching that dan would say something about gender beforehand or in conjunction with it?

if in conjunction, it could be as simple as the title spouse being used for dan in an instagram caption? but the reason i think it's possible as something that happens beforehand is because marriage is such a major (and gendered) experience that it makes sense to want to be known and seen accurately as your whole self when it happens in your life.

again. the only thing i'm completely certain on here is that dan has some kind of gender going on and that it feels LIKELY that it'll be addressed some time in the next year. the rest is just probabilities. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[actual-changeling]

(please do not send any asks with fundraiser links)

Hi, you can call me Alex or whatever variation of my username you'd like. <3

I'm in my early twenties, use mainly they/them pronouns, and there is a lot wrong with my brain (both affectionately and in a decidedly not fun way). I have memory issues, so I can and will forget things, including replying to messages. You are ALWAYS invited to send me a reminder—please, please do, I will not be offended, pinky promise.

This blog is 90% fandom, 5% personal shit and 5% misc posts that I like. My inbox and DMs are open, so feel free to message me and interact however you like! If there's something you want me to see, I don't mind getting tagged in posts either.

Please don't be an asshole, and you can find my opinions/rules about discourse on my blog right here. I'm incredibly bad at judging my own tone, so if I come across as overly intense or upset, chances are I am actually not—I'm just passionate about the things I enjoy.

Mulder and Scully have taken over my brain and body, and I don't think they will leave me alone ever again.

I will be tagging spoilers for any newly released shows and episodes. If there is something you would like me to tag spoilers for, just shoot me an ask or dm!

Currently following and tagging for:

The X Files: alex watches x files

Doctor Who: alex watches doctor who, dw spoilers

(PJO The Series: pjo spoilers) show is on hiatus

The Magnus Protocols: alex listens to tmagp, tmagp spoilers

I write fanfiction both here on tumblr and on ao3 under actualchangeling. Requests or ideas are fine, though I cannot make any promises.

Wanna chat with other people about good omens? I have a discord you can join, mostly angelfish focused but we talk about all our beloved idiots.

My other misc current active special interests are Doctor Who and Good Omens, but I dabble in a lot of other fandoms, too. Among those are Marvel/Iron Man, Lucifer, TLOU, The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale, Prospect (2018), and many more.

My tag system for original posts applies to all fandoms I am currently actively engaging with and follows the same patterns. I tag spoilers when I remember to for about a week, so consider this blog to be very much NOT spoiler free.

alex talks x -> meta, analysis, interpretation, or opinion posts

alex writes x -> either self-promotion or tumblr specific ficlets, without any fandom addition it's original writing of some kind

Any personal posts that are not fandom related are tagged as following; feel free to block them if you're just here for the fandom madness!! I really do not mind.

alex yells at the void -> misc personal stuff

alex gets personal -> potentially triggering discussions of my trauma or mental health, vent posts

Last but not least, the tag for my queue is I’ll follow queue anywhere you go. It's a TLOU reference for those who are curious.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Adrenaline pumps behind your ears. You sit in the dirt, heart thumping, body tingling, you're breathless. You can't believe you just did that.  

You tug on the strap of the chute as it digs into your shoulder. You steady you grip on your phone as you look up at the sky as you try to still your shaking. You just fucking jumped out of a plane and lived. Wow. 

You hit send on the video. The girls aren't going to believe you without evidence. Besides, you feel bad for missing cocktails. You'll be there in spirit. 

A sudden release has you feeling lighter as the chute detaches. You're lifted from behind by the empty back strapped onto you, "Iz, you good?" Sy asks. 

"I'm... alive," you say as you lower your phone and steady your feet, "that was..." 

"Come on," he meets your trembling disbelief with his stern intensity. "You know we still got stuff to do." 

You clear your throat and let out a deep breath, "sure thing, Sy." 

"Whatcha doin' anyway?" He taps your phone before you can tuck it away. "UberEats don't come out here." 

"Pfft," you scoff, "girls are having drinks. Was just sending them my regards." 

"Girls," he utters, "you tell them I'm sorry for keeping ya. Tequila Izzy must be a lot of fun." 

"I told you, I don't drink Tequila," you counter.  

"Sure, ya don't. You just never had good tequila." 

"Please," you turn to walk in time with him across the sandy field, "you know good liquor? I'm the one who stocks your footlocker." 

"Patron ain't too bad. I just don't like the price tag," he shrugs. 

“You? Careful about money?” You shake your head. 

“Eh? Last I checked, you were my money manager.” 

“Well, it wasn’t in the job description but there wasn’t really one, was there?” You kid as you keep step with him. You look ahead and the last of the thrill slakes away. “So, what are we doing here, Captain?” 

“Why ya callin’ me Captain for?” He nudges you with his elbow, “don’t sweat it.” 

Your eyes pinpoint in the distance as you try to see more than sand. Your cheeks slacken and your lips straighten. Business. It isn’t like it used to be. It’s more than emails and Zoom calls. No, it’s life and death. 

“Really, you don’t need to worry. He’s an old buddy. He’s just... livin’ off the grid right now.” 

“You sure?” You ask. 

“What happened to trust?” He challenges. 

“When did I ever say that word,” you mutter and chew your dry lip. 

He huffs, “don’t start. Come on. Won’t be no time.” 

He’s right. You approach a compound behind a thick metal fence. The sun beats down so hotly that you can see a ripple in the air and it looks as if the bars are bending. Like Sy, you’ve wrapped a scarf around your head to sop up your sweat and protect your face. 

You don’t miss the men perched on the posts or those just within. They have guns. They ready them at your approach. Sy shoots up a green flare that has them standing down. He stops you twenty feet from the gate. 

“He’ll come to us before we can go in.” 

You look at Sy. He’s calm, unbothered by the guns and the watching men and the burning sun. Out here, he’s in his elements. He’s confident in the matters of blood and violence, everything else is a mystery to him. His world is foreign to you. You live in the little nooks and cranny’s he doesn’t see; the business of living not killing. Bills, laundry, doctor’s appointments, deadlines, dishes... 

The gate opens and you tense. He taps your wrist, “ease up.” 

You do your best to obey. You don’t want to put any one else on edge. Didn’t you take this job to let go of all that? To stop being so damn uptight. 

A man walks out, unarmed, though he wears an armoured vest. Sy goes forward to greet them and the chuckle as they embrace, slapping each other’s shoulders. You stay behind, wary of the shadows behind the fence. 

“Syverson,” the man lilts, “you made it.” 

“Didn’t make it easy, Conrad,” Sy snorts. 

“Mm, but I thought you were coming alone,” the man looks past him and nods in your direction, “if you’d said a lady was accompanying you, I’d have sent the town car.” 

“Don’t be fucking funny,” Sy reaches to muss the man’s hair. “I’m starving and tired and your jokes still aren’t amusing.” 

“Come,” the man, Conrad beckons to you, “I’ve everything ready. Beds, food...” He draws out the last word with a wink, “wine.” 

Sy tilts his head and cranes to look at you as he follows Conrad’s gaze. You cross the expanse and take Conrad’s hand as he offers it, introducing himself as ‘James’. You shake his hand and return your name in turn. Sy turns forward and squares his shoulders. 

“Might I ask how you know each other?” Conrad turns to walk at your other shoulder as he points you onward. 

“Mmm, she’s...” Sy mulls his answer with a grumble. 

“Personal assistant,” you fill in for him. 

“Oh? How amusing,” Conrad remarks, “and in this line of work.” 

[swamp-spirit]

Not a doctor, but trying to use my experience as a long term Anxiety Disorder Haver to figure out what could have happened to Jason in Gotham War. Listen, I know comic book science is made up, but let me have my 'fun'.

This is also a lot about how trauma and anxiety chemically works and Jason and Trauma in general.

(Discussing my own anxiety disorder a lot here, so don't click if that might be upsetting. Also please minimize the Bruce discourse here. I wanna talk about Jason.)

EDITS because I wrote this in a fugue state and replaced all words with homonyms

So there's two main elements to anxiety. There's the emotional element, the kind you can deal with in therapy, and the physical element, the kind you can deal with via medication.

I related a lot to Jason in Gotham War, because I have very physical anxiety. Even when I can calmly reason through a situation, my nervous system is very physically reactive to the point where I'll be holding a conversation and cracking jokes while seizing. Unmedicated, like Jason, I couldn't do light exercise without triggering a panic attack.

What Jason seems to be experiencing is an issue with his nervous system. To massively oversimplify, because I'm not a doctor, let's say the sympathetic nervous system is the gas, the parasympathetic system is the brakes, and triggers are the foot that decides when to push the pedals down.

When you're in a situation where you need to be amped up, your body hits the gas. You get adrenaline, faster heart rate, fight or flight, but this state isn't sustainable. First, it's very resource intensive. Second, it's a state designed to Do Something, and is very emotionally stressful if there's nothing to Do. This is why people with anxiety disorders can often function in actual danger, because that's what those reactions are designed for.

PTSD is pretty much 'your body hits the gas because your brain has misidentified a safe situation as a dangerous one due to previous experience'. Jason pretty consistently shows signs of PTSD, which makes sense. He has pretty much never been in a safe situation. Even before he was a vigilante and brutally murdered, being homeless, especially as a kid, requires constant vigilance. Most people of any age develop a level of PTSD after living homeless. Witnessing the death of a parent, (depending on the canon) growing up in an abusive home, and being homeless again while brain damaged and vulnerable could all cause PTSD on their own.

We see Jason be triggered a number of times. We also see him trying to self sooth and manage, to 'hit the brakes'. The 'breath deep' on his door in the new Boy Wonder, his stack of books on trauma and chronic pain management in Three Jokers, ect.

So Jason's already got his foot on the mental pedal. He's already scared, and for good reason. His world has always, always been violent. His behavior in Gotham War looks a lot less like ZEA!Bruce turned up the engine and a lot more like he cut the brakes.

As somebody who's experienced the 'lightly jog, and you have a panic attack', it's pretty much a failure of the parasympathetic side of things. You want some adrenaline for a light run. You need to take in more oxygen, but, when your nervous system isn't regulating, it goes out of control. It keeps amping up until you're breathing so fast that you aren't actually processing the oxygen you're taking in. These heightened states are rough on your whole body. When your body is running danger mode, it's not supporting things like sleep, digestion, and wound-healing.

What makes this more horrifying is ZEA!Bruce seemed to feel this would be permanent, even if Jason tried to reverse it, which means it wasn't just an injection the system would flush. To me, the most logical conclusion would be that the injection would have done permanent damage to the parts of his brain that kick in the parasympathetic nervous system.

This also... wouldn't keep him from killing. Jason is usually a calm killer, not a passion killer. Physical excitement is what the body is supposed to do in violent situations. It's much more likely to cause a panic attack in a safe situation where there's no physical outlet. He can take a shot without nervous system excitement. It would keep him from, or at least interfere with things like: -Jogging -Having sex -Watching emotionally intense media -Handling triggers Like, he definitely wouldn't be able to operate as Red Hood because RH does intel work, extended battles, etc, but he could very much kill.

SSRI's probably would not be that helpful, a serotonin tends to help more with stopping anxiety at the 'thought spiral' part than dealing with the nervous system. SNRI's and beta blockers would be a better bet, though Bruce clearly didn't think those would be enough to let him operate at Red Hood.

So... how is he better? Well, the actual answer is 'comic are bullshit', but let's try and roll with it. The given reason is Joker Gas, which is odd because Joker Gas seems to function like... a neurotoxin? A stimulant? My best guess would be that dying or brain damage in general is kicking in some sort of residual Lazarus healing factor and repairing the physical structure that controls the parasympathetic system.