#caused you so much pain and trauma and hurt and being is a situation were like. at best your constantly working to afford living and you

[caruliaa]

yk i think like. im trying desperately not to depress people around me w how close to doomerism i can veer but like. at a certain point its like. the effort and exhaustion that goes into maintaining just being alive in this world is not worth what comes from being alive and like. girlies we may have reached it. el oh el.

[afurtivecake]

Ok let's talk about this line (because I'm slightly obsessed with the complexities of Kevin, Riko, and the portrayal of trauma and abuse in AFTG).

"...precarious line between beloved brother and punching bag."

A thing AFTG does well is the way it consistently presents abusive relationships as relationships. Sometimes in media, an abusive relationship is seen as a situation where one party is the controlling abuser and one is the fearful victim. Sometimes a victim feels that last straw break, becomes disillusioned and leaves for good. It leaves the audience with a morally righteous sense of, "GOOD. GOOD FOR THEM. They deserve so much better." And it's so tempting to see the situation as something black and white. That's the narrative Neil and Andrew see in Kevin's situation. They think he's too scared of Riko even though Riko can't do anything to him anymore, that he should have considered all emotional and material ties to Riko severed the moment Riko broke his hand. In a way, they're absolutely right.

But it's not that simple. Kevin tells them it's not that simple. Jean knows from experience it's not that simple. Kevin and Riko weren't just two sides of a violent situation, perpetrator and victim. They had a real, substantive relationship as brothers and allies. Whatever toxic and twisted form it took, it was still built upon all the same things as a normal relationship: shared history, shared goal, shared emotions, an understanding of each other, and some form of mutual give and take.

Perhaps you can walk away easily from someone whom you've never had a relationship with, who has done nothing but hurt you, like Neil and his father or Jean and Grayson. But it's harder when the abuse comes from someone you've formed a relationship with.

Jean can't stop missing Riko, Zane, and the Ravens even though he hates them and can't be more relieved to be free of them. Neil has meltdowns when he's reminded of his mother (who was still abusive despite how much she loved him and how she tried to protect him with her life) even though he's also glad to be free of her so that he can finally live his life.

"It didn't matter how much Riko hurt him; they'd spent too many years completely wrapped up in each other"

Good people can do bad things and bad people can do good things. That's what makes it so hard to get out of abuse situations sometimes. You can be forever altered by the trauma they caused you but it doesn't erase the memory of the good moments that meant something to both of you and probably will still always mean something to you.

And ok, perhaps Riko had never been actually good to Kevin. But if you've spent your entire life where "manageable" is as good as it gets, guess what, "manageable" is your definition of "good". Good or not, Riko and Kevin still grew up together, trained together, travelled together, won together. They made each other better at the one thing their lives revolved around. They shared in each others' secrets. They were praised together when they won and shared each other's pain when they failed at something. Besides exy, each other was all they had. And none of that stops being true even when Riko beats the shit out of Kevin or punishes him for stepping out of line or even when he breaks his hand.

[ellecdc]

What about the kids (CBBH) seeing the ‘mudblood’ scar on Vix arm for the first time, and then the kids, specially Draco, trying to comfort her.

James and Sirius feeling guilty again because (James) “abandoned” her (no he didn’t) and (Sirius) cause he couldn’t protect her

Thank you so much, feel free to ignore it if you want to, but thank you anyway

Take care and don’t forget to drink water❤️

Ps: I love everything you write, thank you so much for providing us those precious chapters

*Takes a big ol' sip of water* *Cracks knuckles* *types furiously*

I LOVE these kinds of requests...I love diving deeper into the relationships and the histories further than what CBBH covered, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this! 🫶

CBBH Sirius Black x Vix!reader CW: hurt/comfort, discussions of war, PTSD, trauma, guilt, reference to death of a loved one, children, spoiler alerts if you haven't finished CBBH

The Mind Forgets but the Heart Doesn't

It had been a really trying week. 

Percy and the Twins had gotten into it during class one day this week at Potter Manor, and though James and Molly did what they could to placate the situation when it happened, it seemed to bleed out into the other kids as well.

Harry and Draco didn’t seem to be able to agree on anything at all anymore, Jasmine felt the need to play mediator to their squabbles which just aggravated everyone further, and Aurora was far too sensitive for her own good and took everything anyone said personally.

The adults didn’t seem to be fairing much better either.

You and Lily were expecting at the same time. It was very funny when Lily & James went to announce that they were expecting only to have Y/N & Sirius laugh and say ‘same’. Remus never stopped joking that the family would finally have a ‘set of twins’. 

Lily stopped taking the jokes so well as her pregnancy progressed, however.

“This is absolutely, without a doubt, the last one Potter!” She screeched as she excused herself from the dinner table for the sixth time to pee.

You were such a trooper, but Sirius knew that this pregnancy was taking far more out of you both emotionally and physically than your last one had.

The part that hurt (everyone) the most, was that your brain still associated pain and discomfort with your trauma from the war, and the wounds felt far more fresh lately than they had in a long time.

This left both James and Sirius feeling horribly guilty – James for having left you on the battlefield, and Sirius both for being the cause of your current discomfort and for the months during the war that he spent wallowing when he should have been fighting for you.

Sirius would wake up in the middle of the night and reach for you to find the bed empty. He’d go to check both Aurora and Draco’s room’s first before moving on to the rest of the house.

One particularly upsetting night he found you hiding in the shower after you had a distressing and disturbingly realistic nightmare.

But usually, he found you in the kitchens.

“What are you doing up, my love?” He spoke quietly into the room.

You must have heard him coming because you never even turned your head from where you were sitting; you just offered him a quiet hum in response as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and nuzzled his face into your neck.

His hands would migrate lower to what was usually the reason for your midnight wanders.

“Little one hungry?”

You were quiet for a moment, clearly far away from Potter Manor, before you responded.

“There were times I was only ever able to eat at night... when someone could sneak something to me or I could sneak to the kitchens. But sometimes, now, I wake up a little hungry – and my heart tells me that this is going to be my only chance, and I have to make it count. I tell myself it’s not true but... the anxiety doesn’t go away until I do something about it.”

Sure enough, in front of you on the table was a half-eaten granola bar; evidence of your late-night forage for food.

“What was it that Lily said about those muggle dementia patients?” Sirius asked you as he rubbed up and down your arms.

“The mind forgets but the heart doesn’t.” You responded quietly.

Sirius hummed into your hair as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“You’ve done so much work, love. But I don’t think you’ll ever be able to convince your heart to let it go – not fully.”

You sighed miserably, suddenly sounding very close to tears.

“Please be patient with yourself.” He pleaded.

“I’m trying.” You whispered wetly.

“I know, baby. I know.”

This was why the following morning at the breakfast table when Harry – seemingly out of nowhere – asked what a “mudblood” was, the room fell painfully silent.

The adults all seemed to share horrified glances before Regulus spoke up.

“Where did you hear that word, Harry?”

Harry, slightly ashamed now that he seemed to have sucked the air out of the room, looked at you and motioned towards your arm.

Sure enough, as you had reached across the table to pass Remus the plate of bacon, your sleeve had ridden up and your scar was on full display.

Why’d we teach these ankle biters to read? Sirius wondered to himself.

To Sirius’ absolute horror, you seemed to completely shut down. You hastily pulled your sleeve down and moved your arms into your lap, and your eyes turned foggy. 

“Please don’t occlude baby, stay with us.” Sirius begged quietly as he began to rub your arm.

“Haz, when you and Draco were very little, there was a war – do you remember me and daddy telling you about it?” Lily started cautiously.

“Uh huh, when the bad guy hated people who were different and stole Auntie Vix?”

James grimaced before confirming. “Yes, and how Uncle Reggie and Draco’s mummy Narcissa helped her escape and then defeat the bad guy.” 

“Well, the bad guy and his friends did hate people who were different than them. Mostly, they hated non-magical people,” Lily continued.

“Called muggles.” Harry interjected proudly.

“Right, he hated muggles. And he hated muggle-born witches and wizards as well.” James finished.

“But...mummy and Aunt Lily are muggle-born...” Draco added quietly from his place.

James nodded. “That’s right. And because they hated them, they made up a bad word to call muggle-born’s.”

“That’s what mudblood is, Harry. It’s a bad word to call a muggle-born witch or wizard.” Regulus spoke softly.

Jasmine gasped. “Mum! Did Harry say a bad word!?”

“I was only asking a question!” Harry screeched in his own defence.

“But... why is the bad word on your arm?” Draco asked quietly, looking at you.

Your son addressing you directly seemed to pull you out of yourself a little as you offered him a sad smile. “Well, when the bad guy stole me, I wouldn’t tell him what they wanted to know.”

“What did the bad guy want to know?” Jasmine asked curiously. 

Harry elbowed his sister for interrupting, which earned him a whack on the head in return, which caused Remus to switch seats with his niece in an effort to keep the peace.

“They wanted to know where your mummy and daddy and Harry were. They also wanted to know where Pads and Moony and everyone else in the Order were.” 

“Like the Weasley’s!?” Harry asked in horror, as news of your best friend potentially being on some maniac’s hitlist would do to an almost nine-year-old, even though said maniac was already after him and his entire family.

“But you wouldn’t tell them.” Jasmine stated solemnly.

You nodded at your niece. “That’s right.”

“But why was my mum and Uncle Reggie there?” Draco asked. 

You and Sirius both grimaced as you looked to Regulus, whose jaw seemed more tense than usual. 

“Our family comes from a long line of very bad people, Draco. The Black’s...mine and your dad’s family, as well as your mums, were not kind to people who were different from them. They supported the bad guy during the war, I-”

“But dad didn’t support the bad guy...and he’s a Black.” Draco interrupted as he turned to look at his father pleadingly.

Sirius smiled softly at the boy. “Yes, but you see, Draco, I had friends like Uncle Prongs and Uncle Moony, and your mum here, who taught me that it was okay to be different. And Uncle Prongs’ family also gave me a place to go when I no longer agreed or felt safe with my family. Uncle Reggie didn’t have the same kind of friends.” 

“Your friends were bad guys?” Harry asked plainly.

“Yes.” Regulus answered just as plainly. 

“So...my family was...bad?” Draco asked quietly, looking between you, Sirius, and Regulus.

“Not all of them baby, not Uncle Reggie, and not your mum.” You tried to placate, but Draco didn’t bite.

“But they were there! Supporting the bad guy! That makes them bad!” He insisted.

“No, it made us cowards.” Regulus corrected the boy. “I was too afraid to ask your dad or his friends for help, even though I knew that Sirius would take me in if I asked him to. And your mum did what was expected of her, Draco. Your mum believed marrying your dad and having you was the right thing to do.”

“Draco,” you said quietly as the boy tried to fight back tears. “If your mum and Uncle Reggie hadn’t been there, I would not be alive today. And quite frankly, I think that could be the same for a lot of us in this room. They saved us, baby. Your mummy saved you. There’s nothing bad about that.”

Draco still seemed perturbed by this but looked back down to your now hidden scar.

“But someone...hurt you? With that word? Was it my family?”

You shared a look with Sirius who offered you a small nod before you answered. “It was. It was your aunt...your mum’s sister.”

Draco seemed distraught at the news; his mouth turned down miserably and his eyes filled with tears. “My family was bad.”

“Dad, was my family bad!?” Harry asked severely. 

“Haz, hang on, okay bubs?” James asked quietly. 

“That’s right Draco, your family was bad.” You said.

Every head – child and adult alike – whipped to face you.

“They were bad people...but they’re not anymore. Your family is the people in this room, and your mum who died protecting you. You have Uncle Reggie, who was so brave to save me and to turn against the bad guy he was supposed to be loyal to. You have Uncle Moony, who despite doing very hard things every month, doesn’t ask anything of anyone and gives so much of himself to the people he loves. And you have Uncle Prongs and Aunt Lily, who helped us raise you when daddy and I had no idea what we were doing. And you have Haz, and Jazzy, and Rory and two new siblings coming soon. That’s your family, Draco, and they’re not bad at all.”

Draco scanned the room of all the people he loved the most as a few tears fell, and Sirius was quick to catch them with his finger from his place beside him. 

“I’m sorry the bad guys hurt you, mummy. I wish they hadn’t.” He offered finally.

“Oh! I know!” Aurora piped up out of nowhere (Sirius actually sort of forgot his own daughter was present at the breakfast table) and quickly stood from her seat to hurry away. 

Before the adults had time to ponder where the child had gone, she reappeared beside her mum with the first aid kit from one of the loos and her toy Mediwitch Kit. 

“Okay, mummy. Show Healer Ro where it hurts.” She demanded you in her most authoritative tone, which still sounded far too much like Alvin the Chipmunk to be taken at all seriously.

Sirius grinned down at his girl and pulled her up into his lap (for better access, of course) as you pulled your sleeve up on your arm to expose your scar.

Aurora tapped a fake wand to the injury and held a stethoscope to her ear. “It sounds good mummy; means you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, good.” You sighed in faux relief, failing to bite back the proud smile adorning your face.

“Yup, now just needs plasters. I have some golden snitches, unicorns, or bowtruckles, mummy. Which would you like?”

“I think she ought to have some of each, Ro.” Harry interjected from across the room.

“Quite right, Haz. Healer Ro, could you use some assistance with the plasters?” Sirius asked like a spokesman on a game show.

“Yes sir!” She answered, and each kid took turns applying plasters to your scar and kissing it better.

“Looks better already!” Jasmine cheered after their work was complete.

“Hmmmm...I don’t know...” Sirius said skeptically. “Could use a few more kisses I think.” Before he attacked you with kisses, and the kids followed in suit shortly after.

@ttulipwritezz

[wildflowerblurbs]

A Painful Step Towards Healing | Isaac Rhoades

Isaac Rhoades x GN! Reader

CW: mentions of past abuse/unhealthy relationships, trauma caused by abuse/unhealthy relationships, yelling, arguments, hurt/comfort

-

Trauma isn’t a simple thing, no matter how much you wished it was.

You’re in a committed relationship with the man who gave you a second chance at life. You wake up in his arms without the fear of having your belongings thrown out by the landlord before kicking you out for not paying rent on time. You eat your meals with him without uncertainty of when your next meal will be or needing to ration out your food to last weeks at a time. You live your life knowing that you have a future with him. You not only have a family with him, but a family that loves you.

You’ve escaped the hell that you were living, so why? 

Why are you currently hyperventilating on your shared bathroom floor? 

Why can’t you stop the tears that are blurring your vision and staining the carpet below you?

Why couldn’t you keep your composure when the man that you love so much lost his temper and raised his voice at you?

Isaac is not my father. He’d never hurt me. Isaac is not my father. He’d never hurt me. 

You replayed these phrases in your head like a mantra, scolding yourself for even needing to make that clarification to yourself. Isaac had been having a stressful day. People snap sometimes and it’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok. 

It was your fault anyway. You’d insisted on having dinner with him when he’d told you that he’d skip dinner to continue working on a particularly hard case he’d gotten recently. You kept pushing when you shouldn’t have. It was your selfishness that got you into this situation. It was your fault. 

Perhaps that’s why you retreated into the bathroom after promptly apologizing for everything yet nothing at all. You weren’t even sure of what you’d said to him. As soon as you felt the panic spike through your body, you’d excused yourself as quickly as you possibly could. 

It took everything within you to stay quiet as the fears and feelings you often experienced as a child rushed back to you. Issac knew that your childhood wasn’t the happiest but you rarely discussed the details. You didn’t want him to feel like he needed to be careful around you. He always looked so fond when he talked about his mother’s traditions or his father’s teachings and you didn’t want to take that away from him. Truthfully, you weren’t even triggered by his experiences. His parent’s love for him had nothing to do with the unhealthy love your parents had given you. There was no reason why it’d bother you. There’s no reason why anything Isaac did would incite these feelings within you. Or at least you thought. 

This wasn’t even the first time he’d raised his voice at you. He’d been pretty agitated when you insisted on pursuing a relationship with him despite the dangers. He’d been harsh to you before when talking about his past was still considered to be none of your business. There was no reason as to why his anger was affecting you so much now and you hated yourself for reacting this way. 

Here you were, spiraling with thoughts of self-hatred and fear. 

Will he leave me if I’m too annoying? 

I should’ve left him alone, now he hates me.

He hates me. He hates me. He hates—

A sudden urgent succession of knocks on the door interrupts your thoughts. The door opens before you’re able to compose yourself or tell him to give you a moment. Telling by the worried look of his face and the speed at which the door opens, you figure that he’d been knocking for longer than you had realized. 

Time seemed to stop the moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his. You wanted to crawl into a hole from how mortified and embarrassed you felt at being caught for overreacting to such a small thing. 

You quickly get up from the floor, wiping the tears from your eyes with shaky hands. 

“I apologize for barging in. You weren’t responding and I… I was worried something had happened to you. It seemed like you were struggling to breathe; I didn’t know what to do.”

Before he has the chance to take your shaky hands into his and inspect your current state, you move away.

“Y-you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for causing such a—“ 

“No, I am the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustration on you when you were only trying to care for me. I should’ve thought about how my words would affect you. Please don’t ignore your own feelings. You more than have the right to feel upset right now. It’s only natural that you would be.” 

Shock was the only explanation for your sudden collapse. The shock of hearing the words you’d always wanted to hear from those that had hurt you from the one person who had only given you love destroyed the last bit of composure you had. 

Isaac joins you on the floor, bringing you close to his chest and holding you in the warmest embrace you’ve ever experienced. His hand rests in your hair, stroking it gently as you cry in his arms. His case didn’t matter right now, nor did anything else that could possibly require him to leave your side in this moment. He’d needed you so many times in the past. It was his turn to return the favor. 

“I- I was so scared,” you managed to speak in between sobs. Your hands found themselves holding onto his shirt, finding security in the firmness of your grip of him. 

Your actions only made Isaac pull you closer, “It’s ok, everything is going to be ok.” He lifts your chin, his eyes meeting yours, “I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard such words and promises from someone, but for the first time in your life, they don’t ring hollow. He wasn’t just trying to placate you. He meant every single word. 

You hold his gaze for a moment, deciding that you’ve hidden yourself away for far too long. He was Isaac Rhoades, the man you decided to spend the rest of your life with. The man who you trust with your life, who gave you a second chance at life. If there was anyone in the world who you could trust to handle your own demons, it was certainly him.

“…Isaac…have you ever wondered why I left home?” 

[simonsoys]

Hello I’m here again with another question lol, I’ve just noticed an interesting contradiction in flowey’s statements that I hoped to know your perspective on since they always made sense

I think this made me a bit taken back since (back than) he had the ability to save and load and memorise attack patterns or even the element of surprise, but this made me pause since now I’m questioning who “everyone” is.. (sorry if this has been asked before.)

I think I always read this as Flowey being unable to kill Asgore while the Human Souls were exposed for the taking, enabling him to become Omega Flowey. But there's definitely room for me to be wrong.

I'm with you, that I think it seems unlikely Flowey *couldn't* have killed Asgore if he tried long enough. Similarly, I think the line Flowey has about Sans causing him his share of resets doesn't mean he was never able to beat him in the end.

There's two possibilities here:

1. Flowey *could* beat strong characters, but maybe if they're too tough he just gets bored and moves on. He doesn't have Frisk's determination to see it through.

Considering he's really NOT a bad person and is just trying to make sense of his trauma and current situation, it's possible he's not actually curious or sadistic enough to keep working at it. If he were getting frustrated, he'd convince himself that it wouldn't be any different than Papyrus or Toriel or Undyne-- as novel as it might be for a few minutes, he still won't feel anything.

He also seems like the type of kid to rage-quit easily lol

So even if he says he "never" could've beaten him, he definitely could have, if he had just cared a little more.

There's also the fact he's trying to rub it in your face that you're an idiot who sucks, so he could just be embellishing your necessity.

2. He *did* beat the strong characters, but without the human souls as a reward (they remain locked away/unobtainable until you come along), there's not much reason to continue the timeline.

He sees the characters die, but then nothing changes for him. He's still bored and feels empty. The timeline is just a little worse, and he still doesn't have "the answer" to his pain.

Regardless of which one is the real case, eventually he "gives up" anyway. After messing with the timelines long enough and getting bored, he seems to have just stopped. In his final timeline, he's just hanging around as a nobody in the background (except, apparently, to encourage Papyrus), not hurting anyone, until you show up.

Personally, I could go either way because it doesn't change his characterization significantly to me.

If anything, the distinction would just make Asgore seem more powerful. Perhaps against you, a human, he feels more guilt and is more vulnerable than he might've been against Flowey. I don't think we get to see enough from Asgore for me to make that analysis though.

[auntie-social-acab]

Two more women have come forward accusing Neil Gaiman of sexual assault.

It is very difficult for anyone to come forward about sexual assault. It can ruin your life to say “this person assaulted me” when you’re both just normal citizens. When you accuse a celebrity, you’re put under a proton microscope rather than just a regular one.

Anyone who comes forward about sexual assault is disbelieved from the get go. You are suddenly guilty until proven innocent. Different things are said about women than are said about men, but at the core it is all about disbelief and the court of public opinion just doesn’t think you were actually harmed.

Victims are also forced to tell their story over and over again, and often must undergo painful and intrusive examinations, all of which only causes more trauma.

A few weeks ago, I found this comment on reddit while looking at a thread for celebrity rumors:

Screenshot discussing one user being happy that Neil Gaiman is writing for Doctor Who. Another user expresses concern about seeing Neil’s name because they believed he would be accused of sexual assault, and then the final comment by u/elliegriezler: unfortunately, yes, him too. A friend of a friend stay d overnight in his house and he warned her he may wander on Ambien (note: a sleep drug that does cause actual sleepwalking, sleep eating, and sleep impulse buying in a lot of people). She woke up to find him in her room and she didn’t go into specifics, but she was upset and implied that he was groping her. She didn’t want to hurt her career so she didn’t share it publicly. I’m just waiting for something worse to eventually come out about him. Don’t pin your hopes on him being a squeaky clean guy. There’s another comment about his ex wife Amanda Palmer who is also known for odd behavior and liking very young looking “boys” around her. This thread is 184 days old.

This situation is very sad and very upsetting. I hadn’t held out much hope after the initial reporting, even if the podcast it was reported on may have their own agenda. I said to my bff @goblynn whom I’ve known for over two decades, that even if Gaiman isn’t guilty of rape, there’s no way to have him come out of this looking good. He preys on young women and uses his celebrity and friendships with other celebrities to get what he wants.

We’ve discussed how now, in light of these accusations, there are parts of his books that I’ve read and at the time said to myself, “wow, that’s an odd way to write that.” Of course at the time, I figured it was a way he wanted us to see things and not how he feels. Ha! Yes, that’s a sarcastic ha!

Anyway, I feel like this is just the beginning. I would HOPE that Gaiman makes a more complete statement and offers some sort of recompense to his victims. I would hope that he gets the help he needs. I hope this isn’t swept under the rug and forgotten about just because we actually do like his work.

It’s a sad day. It’s okay to be upset. You can be upset and still support the victims at the same time.

[ram-bam-writes]

Wisdom Teeth [Jake Seresin x NB Reader]

A/N: Per my parents recounting, when I got my wisdom teeth removed a few days ago, I cried in my bed because they couldn’t get paramount to play on my tv in my room. I wanted to see Glen Powell so badly that my parents had to dig around to find a charger for my computer so they could put it on… Twenty minutes later I have my laptop flat on my face while humming along to the soundtrack as the TGM plays… Ehehe :>

Summary: Jake’s partner gets all four wisdom teeth removed… Chaos ensues…  Based on personal experiences and made up ones. You guess which are which :>

CW: Wisdom teeth extraction, mentions of medical fears, mentions of blood, reader is suffering, Jake is being a little shit, hurt/comfort, no beta we die like goose, etc [The first part is the actual incident, which goes over fears and hinted past medical trauma, but the rest is lovely (irritating) banter between Jake and his lover. Blue will be everything to do with the angst if you wanna skip past it]

Word Count: 3206

“Honey…” Jake purrs, gently patting your arm in the middle of the waiting room. “Take a breath.”

It’d been several grueling minutes of staring at the clock on the pale wall of the oral surgeon’s office, foot tapping impatiently on the floor as you wait in fear for the extraction. You didn’t want your wisdom teeth out — you’d heard horror stories online. But they caused plenty of migraines and ear pain, and you absolutely needed them out when the bottom teeth grew in with cavities.

That, you decided, wasn’t fair to you at all.

But, alas, it pushed you to get them out. And the dentists advised to get all four out at once, since the top ones were also impacted. So it only made sense to get it all done in one fast sweep.

“Honey.” Jake says a little more firmly, gently grasping your hands. You blink up at him, eyes widened. “Sorry…” “Talk to me, hun. What’s up? They’ve done this a thousand times.” He points at the office wall. “And this is where I got my teeth out. You’re gonna be okay. They’re amazing.” As you tap your feet on the floor, you try not to think of the story your older brother had told you. He’d gotten his ripped out in the Navy, and they had him on not enough local anesthetics and, unfortunately, felt them ripping out his teeth one by one. Your biggest fear became feeling the pain or waking up in the middle of the surgery. 

“I know, I know…” Your hand squeezes his. You didn’t want to be afraid, but you’d woken up before, and your brother certainly didn’t help. He’d tried to — that’s why he told you his story. He was trying to express that he only went through that because, well, Navy. You wouldn’t deal with it. But that didn’t help.

“I’ll be right here every step of the way…” He promises, offering a reassuring smile.

The door besides the office opens, a blond haired dental assistant leaning out of it. “Seresin?”

You inhale shakily, standing up. Your partner quickly follows you, ushering you inside. They both get you situated into the white room, a set of crazy equipment set up in the middle of the room. The dental assistant sits you in a chair, then proceeds to hook you up to an EKG.

“Mmm…” Jake lets out a low purr as your shirt is lifted to attach the stickers. “You look good…”

As much as you want to glare or blush, your nerves take over. The EKG begins to read your heart beat, following the pulses and patterns effortlessly. But that sound…

Warmth blooms on your thigh as Jake runs a hand across your skin. His green eyes swirl with concern, smiling weakly at you. “Breathe.”

After signing a few too many agreements to acknowledge that you’re aware that tons of shit can go wrong in the healing process and that it won’t be the dental office’s fault, you’re situated more comfortably in the chair.

More comfortably? Maybe less so, given they escort your partner out all too quickly. Jake gives you one last kiss to the forehead, just between your brows, and slips out of the room reluctantly. 

The actual oral surgeon walks into the room, his smile friendly. He begins to talk to you about what you do. School, work, both? As you answer each question, he sets up the IV, admittedly a little rough on your right arm. He apologizes, unable to get the IV set up properly, resulting in him going to the left arm. 

As you attempt to keep your wits about yourself, the room swirls around you. “It’s… fine… I’ve had it in my-my hand once…”

When you attempt to explain the story of your hand IV incident, several pairs of hands begin touching your body. One around your neck, two around your legs, and two on each arm. Something is pressed against your nose, something choking your throat. The EKG is loud as it beeps, signaling your tachycardic state.

So you thrash. You thrash and thrash — they wanted to hurt you. With wild eyes, you frantically search around the room for anyone you can recognize, but it’s just several masked medical personnel. It isn’t until the oral surgeon pulls down his blue mask that you see a slightly familiar face, finally easing your breathing.

“That’s it…” The oral surgeon praises. “You passed out on us for a second… but it’s okay… you’re doing fine… you’re okay now…”

“I’m-I’m sor-so-sorry…” Tears slip down your cheeks as the oral surgeon rubs your arm to ease your mind. You can feel the soft hands of a sweet, younger dental assistant running through your hair, smiling gently down at you behind her mask.

“Don’t be… you’re doing just fine. We’re gonna give you the anesthetics, and it’ll be over before you know it…”

A sob shakes your body. “Please don’t let me wake up.”

“I won’t let you. It’ll be the best nap of your life…”

———

“The denshist was sho cute…”

A soft laugh resonates around you, but you can’t quite make out where you’re at or who you’re with.

“Yeah?”

“Yeash... the denshist was shuper cute…”

“Okay, hun..."

"Sho cute."

"Hun."

———

“Javy, can you help me bring them in the house?”

You knew that name. You knew that voice! People!

“That’s my boyfrieeeend!” You suddenly shout, leaning against Javy, incapable of standing on your own. You beam a bloody smile at the blond pilot standing across you, his arms held out in case you tumble. “That’s myyyyy boyfriend!”

“Jayyyy thasss my boyfrienddd!”

“I know.”

“My boyfrieeeend!”

“Y-yes!” Javy holds you tight, attempting to not drop you while he cackles.

“Boyfriend!”

———

You blink up at your boyfriend in a daze, Jake’s sweet smile staring down at you. He hands you a black table bell, one you had gotten him a few months prior. It reads: “If you hear this bell, bring me a beer.”

“Here, hun. Ring this when you need something from Javy, okay?” He pats your head lovingly. “I need to pick up your meds from the Pharmacy.”

He should have known better. Objectively, he should have known. You’re drugged! How can you not ring the bell seventy-million times in a row the moment you’re handed it?

“Hun.” A bright grin spreads across his face, his laugh warm as it swirls around you. “Don’t make me take it away, darlin’.”

The ringing stops. 

“Thank you.” He kisses your forehead as you set the bell next to your bed, eyes glimmering as you stare at the oh-so-tempting piece of metal. 

———

There’s a warm glow from the curtains as the sun slowly lowers behind the horizon line. Wind blows from the open window, the breeze comforting against your cold, sore body. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a normal morning after a good night with your partner.

And then the pain strikes. A thin set of lines in the four corners of your jaw are stinging. Jake, always a master of knowing your pain, rounds the corner to the open bedroom door.

“Ow…” You groan out, gauze stuffed in your cheeks. “Why…”

His calloused hands reach out and caress your neck. He doesn’t dare to touch your jaw, not in your current state. That’s a recipe for disaster he isn’t keen on making, actually. “Take it easy… you’re still pretty high on narcotics…”

“Ugh…” For some reason, your whole body aches something bad. It’s like you got hit by a truck. “Drugs…”

“Yes,” he laughs sweetly at you as he helps you sit up properly. “Yes, drugs. Good ones, too. Red caps, orange bottles. Good stuff.”

“Opioids…”

“Don’t talk much… the clots are still healing.” Jake gently wipes at the corner of your mouth with a wet cloth, removing the excess blood from your skin.

Is that why there’s so much gauze in your mouth?

“Let’s get you some new gauze, okay?” His strong arms help you stand upright as you lean most of your weight against him. An arm snakes around your waist, his lips pressing against the side of your head. “I’ve got ya…”

He leads you to the roomy kitchen, setting you onto the countertop. You instinctively spit out the gauze, something he laughs at. 

“Hun… unsanitary.” He earns himself a glare from you as he wanders to the sink. “I’ve got new gauze right here. Throw these ones in the trash, copy?”

“Floor.”

“Trash.”

“Floor.”

“Trash.“

“Floo-“He decides to interrupt you by pressing a rolled pad of gauze against your lips. Not hard, not at all. But enough to shut your drug-addled self up.

“Now bite down and quit bein’ a brat.”

You do as you’re told, mostly because your jaw is actually beginning to hurt from speaking so much. And when he hands you the good pills, the ones you know are gonna help fix most of those pains, you eagerly attempt to swallow them down with water.

“Babe-“ Jake inhales, immediately bursting out into laughter when the pill dissolves on your tongue, your mouth not quite working properly.

When your face twists in disgust as you try to swallow the dissolving pill, your partner’s fingers quickly grab the pill. He holds it in his palm, saving you from the horrendous taste. Down the length of your chin and neck is a long stream of wetness, none of the water that you had taken a sip of making it down the inside of your throat. 

“Alright, messy little thing, let’s try that again, hm?” He hands you a fresh pill this time, hand manually tilting your head back. “Once more, baby…”

———

Food.

You crave food.

Sustenance.

A soft knock echos on the door to your shared bedroom, Jake stepping inside with a paper bag. “I’ve got food!”

The speed at which you sit up is concurrent with the pure hunger your body feels. Jake can only laugh when your eyes, large and focused, stare at the bag of food, your nose working to figure out what food he has for you. Jake sits down on the bed next to you, gently pulling out small round containers of food. One large one, one small one.

“Doc says you can have mashed potatoes and gr-“ Maybe he should have expected you to snatch the container eagerly, drool slipping past your lips.

You were finally allowed to take out the bloody gauze pads, the clots beginning to heal. Not enough to eat normal foods again, but fuck if these potatoes didn’t smell like heaven.

“Just go slow, darlin’.” Jake helps pour the gravy into the mashed potato container and hands you a spoon. “Don’t want you poppin’ a stitch just yet.”

As you eagerly scoop up the first bite of savory mashed potatoes, you run into your first problem. 

You can’t open your mouth wide enough. To fit. The spoon.

The spoon clatters against your teeth, and Jake silently thanks the gods it was just a plastic spoon. And when you pout, letting out a strangled whine, he laughs so sweetly as he cups your jaw. 

“Struggling to fit that, darlin’?” He teases, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Here, let’s get you somethin’… smaller.”

He digs around the paper bag, this time pulling out a plastic fork. After scooping up some room-temperature mashed potatoes, he gently feeds it through the small gap between your jaws that you can manage. 

“Fuck…” You groan, the taste on your tongue pure bliss. Had mashed potatoes always tasted this good?

Jake laughs at your sounds. The way your eyes flutter and weakened smile forms has his heart thrumming right out of his chest. You’re his baby, and he loves every second of it.

“That’s it, hun. There’s plenty more where that came from.” He feeds you another spoonful. “Nice and easy. Swallow all of it, darlin’. No spitting.”

… Did he really just…?

You deadpan your lover, a bit of mashed taters still coating your lips which slightly dulls the intended effect.

Oh, the laugh he lets out is a boisterous one. Grabbing you a tissue and gently wiping your lips, he offers a cheeky smile. “Can’t help it darlin’. This is who you chose.”

“You’re so lucky you’re spoon feeding me.”

“Fork feeding.”

———

Day two of the recovery period goes a bit better. Since the mashed potatoes yesterday, you’ve been able to have really really mashed egg salad, cold ramen with cut up noodles, more mashed potatoes, and even room-temperature tofu. With the opioids you’re on, you can’t quite get the average hunger cues, which is probably in your best interest given the nutrients you’ve been living off of consist only of mashed potatoes, yogurt, and chicken broth.

Javy has come to visit, since Jake had a few errands to run and was never gonna let you stay by yourself. You’d known Javy probably longer than you knew Jake. He’s a close friend of yours, especially given that he’s the reason you and Jake got together. 

“Javy…” You whine out, leaning dramatically on his lap. “Will you please get me more food…? Jake’s killing me!”

The man in question pats your head, his eyes never leaving the TV in front of him. “Nope. Jake has you on the diet you need to be on.”

If it weren’t for him being your friend, you’d have smacked him a lot harder. But maybe, just maybe, you could complain long enough and get some pancakes out of him. The sweetness of syrup and carbs sounds so damn appealing that your stomach growls in need.

“I can’t take it anymore! Please! I just want pancakes!”

“Sorry, love.” Javy points over to the bowl of yogurt on the coffee table. “Not yet. You can have pancakes on day four.”

“Did he leave you a list?” “Of course he left me a list.” Javy offers you his phone, seeing the frantic, detailed texts from your partner. “Several.”

As mad as you want to be, your heart warms with how much your boyfriend does to keep you healthy and well. Without him, you’d probably have already popped several stitches.

“Oh, and, out of curiosity.” Javy tilts his head to look down at you, gently placing the bag of frozen corn on your cheek once more. “Do you remember anything about the oral surgeon?”

You blink.

“What?”

Javy grins. “The dentist that took out your teeth. Do you remember anything about him?”

“Um… he calmed me down when I freaked out.” You wrack your brain trying to think of anything else. “But… not really.”

��How cute is he?”

“WHAT?” You wince from the sudden shout, your stitches not very happy with you. “How-how what is he?”

Javy’s smirk turns into a full blown grin, his laugh echoing in the small living room. “You don’t remember? You wouldn’t shut up on the drive home how cute the dentist was! I think you told Jake like, eight times in ten minutes!”

Your cheeks burn, eyes wide as you swallow thickly. Had you really? 

“Jake was having a blast. You were so head over heels for the dentist you actually cried when we left. And then, as if the dentist never existed, the moment I pulled you out of Jake’s truck, you refused to shut up about him being your boyfriend.”

He pats your head affectionately. “You were hanging off of me and makin’ grabby hands at him. I’d never seen Jake so in love.”

Javy laughs when you hide your face with your hands, whining with embarrassment at the story.

“And that’s before the photo incident.”

“The w h a t?”

Maybe you shouldn’t ask.

“The photo incident, darlin’.” Jake’s voice carries across the room, shutting the screen door behind him with several bags in his hand. “I came back from the Pharmacy that day to find you layin’ flat on yer back with a photo of me n’ rooster stuck on yer face. Javy say’s you cried when I left, but a photo sufficed.”

He sets down the bags in the kitchen, leaning against the door to the living room with a lazy grin. “You okay there, sugartits?”

“No!” You hide your face once again. 

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Javy waves his hands. “Jakey here cried himself sick when he got his teeth out because his cat walked away to go eat.”

It’s your partner’s turn to becomes flustered, his golden cheeks tinting red. Jake points at his best friend, eyes narrowed. “To the grave. That was. To the grave.”

Your hands quickly fly up to press against your mouth, less to suppress you hysterical giggles and more to keep your mouth from stretching too much. Javy stands and gently moves you aside on the couch, grinning all to mischievously. 

“That’s my cue to leave-“ Javy gives the two of you finger guns, walking towards the door. “I’ll have the missus bring some shakes over later tonight, ‘kay?”

You sight, flopping back down onto the couch.

“Pancakes?”

Jake’s lips press right up against your forehead, his tone loving and affectionate. “No, little chipmunk.”

“I’m not that swollen!”

———

With day three rolling around all too slowly, Jake takes the time to cuddle you endlessly on the couch. He did his morning run, workout, and shower routine early, wanting to give you as much attention for the day as he can. 

While you pain is bearable, every few words you’d speak would be met with a sudden jolt of pain to your gums, right where the stitches had been. 

Thankfully, you had Jake to nuzzle into, his breathing light and easy as random movies play on the TV. His hands stroke your scalp, lovingly giving your waist squeezes every now and again. He’d gotten pretty good at recognizing your pain cues, especially the sudden sharp ones.

“Need some ice cream, hun?” Jake begins to sit up, but you tug him down.

“Mac. And. Cheese.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“Macaroni. And cheese.”

“It’s… It’s not even ten…” 

Instead of responding, you let your eyes bore into his, the intensity and need for Mac and cheese shining through. 

“You’re like pregnant lady…” Jake shakes his head with a laugh, standing up and walking to the pantry. “You want the weirdest things…”

You flop against the couch once more when you hear the box of dried macaroni rattle in his hands, happy hums slipping past your lips. 

And then you hear it.

Crunch.

Your body immediately perks up, eyes narrowing in on the culprit and the crime. “What are you eating?”

“Chips.” Jake makes a show of shoving a large tortilla chip in his mouth, crunching on it loudly. “Wan’ some?”

You could punch the motherfucker for that.

He smirks as you stand up and round the kitchen counter. “Aw, wait, I just ‘membered…”

“You asshat!” You shout, giving him a good shove as you take the box of pasta out of his hands. “Go eat your chips in the garage.”

“Hun-“

“Nope! You’re being exiled! Exiled.” Jake laughs as you swat at him, raising his arms in mock defense. “Go! Get!”

This is gonna be one hell of a long, annoying, irritating recovery.

And you’re gonna hate love every second of it.

A/N pt2: Lemme know if you want another part as time goes along with my healing and how I imagine Jakey would deal with it as time goes on :>

[makuzume]

Hi! hope ur having a great day :D

im not sure if you do one-person fics but can you pls do yuji's partner (reader) getting killed by sukuna 🥹

yes i want all the ANGST

Thanks so much 🙇‍♀️

- 🐼

Sukuna Kills Yuji's Lover

🔅content: gn!reader; angst/no comfort; death; blood; fatal injury descriptions; you are Yuji's lover; you die fr; emphasize angst

🔅a/n: dang Panda anon was COOKING with this request I think I got possessed by Sukuna or something bc I finished this immediately in one sitting idk how I am honestly crying.

[JJK Masterlist]

🔅Word Count: 1.2k

...

"Hm. I told you to not get on my nerves, kid." Sukuna said to you with a low voice, a devious smile appearing on his lips, showing hints of irritation, arrogance, and even a mix of excitement.

Your eyes slowly look down, hesitant and afraid of viewing the wound he had inflicted onto you just moments ago.

Half of his arm had already pierced through your chest, splatters of red liquid shot out from your body, coating his arms as you panted heavily while the blood spilled endlessly.

Pieces of your insides had scattered on the floor around you- spreading on the clothes on Yuji's uniform and as well as on the claws which Sukuna used to dig them out in the first place.

He smirked with satisfaction, aggressively retracting his hand out of your body. "This is what you get, you imbicile. You pay the price for believing you could ever subdue me."

Yuji could only helplessly view the horrific scene through the lenses of Sukuna's eyes, watching you bleed out uncontrollably, internally causing his sanity to shatter little by little.

The scene he had witnessed was horrible-traumatic even, but every attempt for him to gain back control for his body only ended in complete failure.

You droped to your knees, weapon slipping from your fingers as it hits the ground, a clanking sound from the metal blade echoing in the air.

You cough up the chunks of blood that had clumped in your throat, your senses slowly beginning to numb.

Weakly, but softly, you look up at him, your eyes starring into his as your mind began to slowly fog, not showing any sorrow, anger, or even pain.

The gentle gaze you had was not meant for Sukuna... never in a million years would you ever show such affection to someone as cruel and heartless as him.

You could never forgive Sukuna for hurting Yuji like this... using his own body against him and making him do unspeakable things which Yuji wouldn't even dream of doing.

But you also wouldn't be able to forgive yourself either for being so easily killed like this... staining your beloved's gentle hands with your own blood on it.

Your tender gaze was meant for the one who rightfully owned the body which pierced you, the boy which you loved so dearly. The one who could only watch everything that was happening from afar with no ounce of control of the situation, no matter how badly he wished for it to end.

You knew, deep inside his mind, Yuji was there... watching every single second of this moment.

Even the gods above would know just what kind of trauma this will give him. If there were a god, you prayed that he would be able to forgive you for being so reckless, to be able to forgive himself one day for being the vessel of your death.

With every single ounce of strength left in your fading consciousness, you spoke, ever so weakly.

"....y-yu...ji...." you tried your best to make your words understandable through the pools of blood that were flooding your mouth.

A weak hint of affection was the only expression visible on your face as you look past through Sukuna's eyes, as you look at Yuji who was well hideen behind them.

"...l......liv........e......"

With your last breath, your whole body dropped to the ground, empty of air and empty of life.

All you could do is wish for him to live:

To live and move on.

To live free from pain, grief, and hatred.

To live beside the people he cared for the most.

To live a life filled with excitement and love.

To live happily.

All your senses vanished, just like the little amount of life left within you.

And in the next moment, you were gone.

Gone forever.

Sukuna chuckled with a dark tone "...You can't win everything with just will power alone, brat." He said, addressing it to Yuji.

A scoff escaped his lips, evidently satisfied with the gruesome scene in front of him. "You lack enough strength to even save anyone who was right next to you just a moment ago. Tch... some 'hero' you are."

A small smirk appears on his face.

He chuckles quietly; Then, his chuckle turns into laughter- Laugher that slowly became more histerical with every second that had passed.

Thick fluids of blood dripped down from Sukuna's hands, causing the drops of crimson to create little puddles.

The splatters of your blood created made small splashes as it fell onto the ground, leaving tiny stains of dark red on the school uniform he wore.

Your body laid completely cold and lifeless beneathe him as he laughed continuously, as if he were mocking your death.

Yuji, trapped in his own mind, could only scream internally, his thoughts drowning him with grief, sadness, and hatred.

The battle was evidently over, your body had lost to the hands of both the sorcerers' greatest enemy, and the hands of your own lover.

"Have a good look, you little brat..! Enjoy it while it's still fresh..." Sukuna said as he slowly gave Yuji back control of his body, wanting him have a better taste of the tragic death of his lover, his best friend, his only family, his number one supporter, and his everything.

'No...' Yuji whispered mentally as he felt himself slowly being switched out.

'...No... I...' Instinctively, Yuji felt the need to supress himself, for just a moment, to at least process the scene in front of him, for he knew the moment he took over, he will completely loose his sanity and break apart indefinitely.

But Sukuna is not generous enough to spare Yuji such time to compose himself.

The marks on his face disappeared completely, the smile Sukuna wore had slowly faded as the tears in Yuji's eyes began to form.

His mouth quivered, his lips pursed.

His knees gave in, causing him to fall to the ground.

His hand turned into a fist, repeatedly hit the concrete below him, screaming in frustration.

"DAMNIT...!!!!" Yuji yelled with all his breath until his voice cracked.

"....WHYY?!!... WHY NOT ME, DAMNITTT....!"

He crouched down even further, curling into a ball as he aggresively gripped his hair, practically ripping of the roots of his scalp off.

The stench of your blood forced its way into his nose, a sickening lump in his throat threathening to come out.

Yuji crawled to your side, ignoring all the puddles of dark liquid on his way.

His bloodied hands shook intensely as he reached for you, ever so gently placing you in an embrace, cradling you in his arms tenderly.

"...why..."

He quietly whispered, a visibly pained emotion noticable in his voice as the streams of tears continued to fall on the sides of his cheeks.

"...why...did you come here...? ...I told you to not come back for me..." He grinded his teeth, his voice cracking as he spoke, trying his best to hold back from breaking down completely.

"... why didn't you listen..."

"...y/n-..." His voice hitched, and that was it for Yuji.

Saying your name was finally caused him to break.

He sobbed intensely, his lungs being unable to keep up with the amount of breath he expelled as he continued to pant heavily.

Streams dripped from his eyes as he continously cursed at the sky, his hands holding your body ever so delicately.

'I'm no hero.... I was never a hero...' 

He thought to himself.

'..you don't deserve this... it should've been just me... why does everyone else around me have to die..?'

Droplets of his tears fell onto the blueish skin on your cheeks as your blood slowly continued to flow steadily out of your hollow chest.

Your eyelids were half lidded, showing the lack of life in them.

"...damnit.."

He whispered once more.

If he could only cast a curse on himself, a curse which would bring everyone he loved back to life in exchange for his, he would have done it in a heart beat.

Yuji's body weakens, exhausted and out of breath as one hand gently gripped your side, and the other gently caressing your cheek for one final time.

"...goodbye..... y/n..."

"...I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you like I promised...."

....

[Back to JJK Masterlist]

a/n: visit my masterlists for more depressing content (or happy ones we have those too); Welcoming Yuji's first time being featured in my works I'm so sorry my boy I hurt you so much here😔

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

[08melancholie]

Light Banter. — Micah/Reader

tags: Grief/Mourning, Loss, Death, Mistakes, Soft Micah Bell, Crying, Men Crying, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt, Emotional Hurt, Murder, Brutal Murder, no comfort, Minimal fluff, Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Not Proofread, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell, and reader lol

summary: The things Micah would do to go back in time and listen to Dutch, the things he'd said about you. Just for once, to rewrite this passage in his life. But that's an ending he may never face; so he must learn to cope with his mistake—both of your mistakes, and must do so all alone.

a/n: so ummmm ive been thinking abt my own fic for the entire two days ive been writing it LIKE i was in class imagining one of the scenes. micah bell angst LETS GOOOOO !!!!

words: 3,648 | AO3 LINK

Dutch is many things; controlling, manipulative, power-hungry—but somehow never wrong. And Micah had to learn that the hard way.

How he said the two of you were a match made in hell—he was right there. When he said you were both the biggest pains in his arse, always causing trouble wherever you went; when he had to put you both on camp-arrest, an attempt at lecturing you to not go into random bars and start fights; when he'd refuse to send you on jobs together, because he knew the outcome every time.

And you both should have listened, for once.

Another day brings you more trouble to stir. Micah and yourself have been out all day—early morning to late afternoon. Few folks were robbed; few non-compliant killed. It was a bit ruthless and brutal—but you were outlaws, so who cares?

Well, Dutch cared. Too much, in your opinion.

Always had his nose in your business, finding ways to scold you and Micah for any minuscule mission that ended in bloodshed or law. But that was your nature! And per his own word, you can't fight your nature—and so you won't.

Now, was that worth being sat in his tent, talked down to for hours? Well, yes. You either zoned out every time, or were struggling to hold in your chuckles and chortles with Micah; always worsening your situation.

Like today.

"You two are just.. unbelievable!" Dutch is scolding you like two children whom were just caught stealing candy from the corner store. He made you sit down on his cot before he started tearing into you both for another bar fight two towns over—initiated by Micah this time. "I sometimes just want to keep you both in camp, doing chores—because this isn't the way to go about." He adds, and it falls on deaf ears as you space out wherever while Micah just.. sits there, staring at him as if he's processing the words coming out of his mouth, when he in fact isn't. Dutch sees this and is simply fed up. "You know what? We're not gonna continue like this."

His next words get your attention instantly.

"I'm separating you two." Your eyes dart up to meet Dutch's dark ones, glistening with distaste. "No more sharing a tent; no more doing jobs together; hell, if you make me go that far, I'll prohibit you two speaking to each other." He barks, and you feel your heart drop to your feet.

"The fuck?" Dutch shoots you a glare at the vulgar reply and raised tone. "You can't do that, Dutch." You protest, standing up off the cot. Micah's head shoots up to look at Dutch, just as surprised and protesting.

He stands firmly above the two of you, looking and talking down on both. "I can do as I please," He stands back to his desk, where he previously was. "already had Charles start to move your—" He gestures to you. "—things out into a different tent at the other side of camp."

Your jaw goes slack and you feel like you have to pick it off the floor. "That.. Dutch! You can't be serious, that's just plain cruel!" You protest, clearly against the entire idea. But, everyone knows who has the last word; it's the reason Micah hasn't talked all night, and the reason he's been watching you, bewildered at how you're protesting to Dutch's word so confidently.

"I am not changing my mind; get out of my tent, both of you." He says firmly, and you have to be dragged out by Micah as to not pounce on Dutch right then and there.

Micah grabs you and—reluctantly, because he'd love to see you ravage the bastard like a wolf—leads you out of the tent, sighing after you exit and shut the flaps behind yourselves. "As much as I'd love to see it, I can't have 'ya killin' Dutch."

It felt much more real when you've left the tent.

Your eyes snap over to where you shared tent would be; split into two, like they were before you 'moved in' together. "This is bullshit.. he can't just segregate us!" You turn to Micah, who looks just as upset.

"I hear 'ya," He places his hands on his hips, looking at the tent as well. "but.. we both know there's nothing we can do." The truth in his words is painful, and you almost don't want to believe it. "Let me help get yer stuff in." He offers, and you nod with a small frown.

Micah helped you get your stuff across camp, the choice of being moved surprising most onlookers who caught a glimpse of what was going on. You just felt worse; even they didn't understand the choice Dutch made. You were reluctant on sorting the last item in its original place, slowly placing your last book into a drawer. "I.. I won't be used to this—I can't do this, Micah." You turn to face him, looking up with a quivering frown.

Micah feels for you. He doesn't even know if he'll be able to process this. He got used to having you in the tent; reading on your shared bedroll before he'd lay himself down, and you'd start reading aloud to him; early mornings where you'd slip out before him—if he managed to get some shuteye, ever—and greet him with coffee; pouncing on him whenever there was a job the two of you could do together. He'll miss it all. "C'mere, I know.." His arms extend to you, and you waste no time in pressing yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

You felt safe there—and you know it sounds foolish; safe in the arms of a bloodthirsty, ruthless killer? Well, that was the honest truth. Before you were this close and started sharing bodily contact every day, his hugs—because rare—always felt much more meaningful and real. Your face buries itself in his chest, hands hugging him from under his arms and resting on his back, where his hands find your sides and squeeze reassuringly. You can't tell if he's trying to reassure you or himself right now. "Why would Dutch do this to us?" You huff into his coat.

He looks down at the top of your head. "Beats me, darlin'. I can't put my finger on it, either." He shifts one hand to your back and traces your spine slowly. "But it's damn unfair, that's one thing."

You nod against him in agreement, then pull away slightly, to be able to look up at him. "I think that we should part right—there's an O'Driscoll camp out west, close enough to be a problem." You smirk up at him, and he returns it.

"Oh, yeah? Is there, now?" He releases his hold on you, letting you take a step back. "Well, what're we waiting on? Don't want Dutchy stoppin' us here, do we?" He brings your smile back to your face, and you instantly make a b-line for your horses, mounting up and not caring about the approaching Hosea, trying to stop you.

The ride to this camp was pretty quick, seeing as the both of you were overly excited about it. You were going to end this right, have fun and then probably sneak off to do jobs and have one of the girls cover for you, like they have before when you got 'grounded' by Dutch a few months back. "And there it is," You point out the small outpost-looking area ahead, hitching your horse close-by, but not too close either. "In all her O'Driscoll glory."

"She looks promisin'," Micah jumps off of his horse, following your lead as you take coverage behind a nearby boulder. "tell me how we're doing this, partner." He looks over to you, ready for your command.

Now, whereas you always usually had a plan on how to do things, you just wanted to stress-relieve this time. And so, you did exactly that. "The plan is, you shoot everyone but me and yourself." You give a brief chuckle before drawing your guns. "I just need to relieve some of these emotions, and killin' off O'Driscoll scum will do it perfectly for me." You add.

Micah's smile turns into that devilish grin you love; taking his DAs out swiftly. "Oh, you've got it, girl." He laughs wickedly—oh, how you love that sound. You nod and cock your weapons, rising from your spot.

The entire area smells of blood and gunpowder, a scent you've gotten much more used to since meeting Micah and going on blood-thirsty missions with him. Bodies are scattered all around; faces with bullet holes in them, slit necks and penetrated chests. You and Micah were stood in one of the cabins there, searching through the many drawers, cabinets and closets inside the room. "Damn, these bastards were poor as dirt." You lean on the table behind Micah, on the opposite side as you watch him search through a closet, his back turned to you.

"I found a few pocket watches, but that's about it." You add.

"Hm, well 'least we got something, wouldn't dream of getting back to Dutch with noth—"

His sentence is interrupted by a horrifying squelching sound. Your breath hitches, nearly just enough to silence you. "Mic.. ah—" Your words are knocked out of your mouth by the sharp pain in your waist, and the hand on your mouth.

Micah turns around immediately, met by the traumatising sight of a knife in your side, a barely alive O'Driscoll's hands on you as he runs the knife deeper, slowly and excruciatingly painfully. "What the—" He draws his revolvers, pointing them at the man who tuts at him like at a bad dog.

"Don't do that, Micah." You let out a breathless gasp when the man twists the knife inside you, your hands shakily trying to push him off. You're gasping into the hand on your mouth, backing up into him as your eyes water. You never had a bad pain tolerance; it was more the look on Micah's face at the predicament you both got yourselves into now that had you wanting to cry. "You killed my brothers, 'ya rat."

Micah's unsure in what he's supposed to do. He grips his guns tightly, staring wide-eyed at the sight before him as he scrambles for any way to stop your pain, watching you squirm for release. "Let her go, she ain't done nothing."

The man just laughs and gives another twist of his hand and knife in your side that has you gritting your teeth together. "She slit one of 'em's throats. Wild little thing, is she?" His breath is hitting your neck as he speaks, clasping his hand down harder on your mouth. His knife handle is almost soaked, red staining your light blue shirt and trickling down to your jeans. Just as he stops twisting it, he pulls it out. You squeak out in pain, shutting your eyes closed.

Micah practically growls, watching the man pull the knife out and press the soaking red blade to your throat. "Please—don't." He's desperate, barely able to look at you fighting to stay standing, gripping onto the mans' forearm for dear life. Dear life, indeed.

"Wow," The O'Driscoll laughs, pressing the blade in harder. "beg me some more, Micah Bell. Never thought you was that kinda person." Micah is fighting between anger and worry; wanting to rip the man's head off while watching you squirm, losing more and more blood by the second.

His blood runs cold when a dead silence fills the room and you still up—the knife painting your neck red.

"No!—" He shoots the man dead on the spot, a headshot right into the forehead. He drops his guns and kneels to you, making you sit up and lean on the wall. "Damn it! No, no—don't do this to me, girl.." He unbuttons his undershirt and rips a piece up out of it, trying to hold it up to your neck in an attempt at saving some blood loss. "Come on, you can't do this to me—this is not how we said we was parting, sweetheart," He holds your hand up to your neck, your eyes rolling back as you cough and clench your side. "Please, please don't."

As an outlaw, this was actually how you always envisioned your demise. But, you never thought it'd be this brutal—or that Micah would be forced to watch. "Micah—" You attempt to speak, and it sounds terrifying; your voice isn't you, it doesn't sound like you.

"Don't talk, baby. I'mma.. I'll get'chu home.." You can't really tell if he's trying to convince himself or you that there's a possibility of redemption here, the horrifying look in his eyes as your blood paints the floor and himself, the hand holding yours over your neck getting soaked and trickling down his whole arm. He's getting just as bloody as you, and yet he still thinks there's a way to save this. "It's not too deep.. I can still get 'ya home.." He's huffing and out of breath, as if he just ran a marathon.

You use the hand on your hip to shakily touch his shoulder, removing it from the first knife wound. "No—.." You mumble breathlessly, shaking your head at him. "Stay.. while I go." You manage out, blood leaking down your front from between yours and Micah's fingers.

"No, please—please let me help 'ya. Don't do this to me." He's pleading with you, reaching his free hand to hold onto your side. "Please." He's never experienced loss like this; for a man that killed and saw death since he was a young boy, he sure wasn't prepared.

"Hug me."

"Y/N, don't."

"Hug. Me."

"I love you, darlin'. Why won't you let me help you?"

"Please, Micah. Hug me, hold me in my last moments."

His hands release your wounds. One goes to the back of your head, leaning you into his chest as the other runs through your hair. "I never wanted this, baby. I'm so fucking sorry." He's whispering into your ear while running his bloody hands through your hair, pressing you into himself. This is how you always wanted to die; in the hands of your favourite person, getting to hold them and breathe in their scent, making sure they're the last memory you have despite the way you'd die.

You start to feel woozy; dizzy. You feel your breaths leaving your lungs, your life leaving your body. This, was something no amount of preparation could calm you. "I'm.. scared." You manage out, holding onto his shoulders with a surprising amount of strength.

"Don't be, baby. You'll feel better." He hums, his voice cracking. "And I'll see you there, too. I'll be there, at some point." He whispers, pulling you away briefly to press a kiss to your forehead, wiping some blood off of your neck before leaning you back into him. "I'mma bury you at the nicest spot you'd have ever seen. I'll visit you every day, babygirl. I know you love tulips; how 'bout I plant some there? You'll love that, won't you?" He rambles into your hair.

A haunting silence. Your breaths slow down and hands stop gripping his shirt, and you go limp on top of him. That's what truly breaks him as his eyes water, maybe for the first time in multiple decades. "Oh, baby. I'll make sure you have the prettiest little spot.. with the prettiest little flowers." His tears stream down to your face as he pulls you away to look at you; his beautiful, strong girl.

"Me an' Charles'll bury you, give you the best spot in the entire damn country. I'm so goddamn sorry."

After a moment of silence, he got up and grabbed his guns, holstering them before gently picking you up. He got you up on his horse, calling your own to follow him as he left the massacred O'Driscoll camp behind—not before setting a fire to the cabin in which the man who killed you laid. Just in case.

He held you against him the entire ride back to camp which felt much longer without your little quips and stories, uncaring of how stained his clothes were from your blood. He occasionally leaned down to kiss the top of your head, fastening you against him.

Getting into camp was probably the most terrifying part. He hitched up and held you against him as he stood at the entrance of the campsite, feeling shellshocked. He looked down at your unmoving body, his eyes narrowing to your much more peaceful face.

"Oh, Micah."

His head perks up to the sight of Hosea, standing up from the campfire and slowly walking over, his eyes wide and one hand covering his mouth. "Micah.. Micah, how.?" Hosea was at a loss for words; hell, he assumed you invincible from how many close calls he had to watch you suffer through, so seeing you unmoving in Micah's arms was a terrifying sight. "No—you don't have to say anything. I'll.. get Charles—Charles!" He turns and yells for the other man, as Micah looks back down to you, waiting on Charles.

He soon shows up and instantly frowns, looking down at your body. He looks up to Micah after a moment of silence.

"You know where you want to bury her?"

It was a nice little hill, always painted in flowers during the spring. There was a lake nearby—you always loved sneaking off and skinny-dipping with him, uncaring of Dutch's lecture the next day when you'd be too tired to work. You liked smelling things, too; from flowers to Pearson's meals to Micah himself. You constantly got up into his chest and took in his scent when he hugged you—or when you involuntarily tacked him into an embrace. He'll miss your little surprise attacks on him. He hopes that the flowers will be enough to smell for you.

"Do you want a moment before we lower her in?"

Charles' voice gets Micah out of his zone, and he looks at the man. "Thank you.." He grumbles and Charles nods, walking off a few feet to give Micah his well-deserved privacy.

Micah takes a seat down next to your lifeless body, now cleaned up and dressed in your favourite outfit. You looked mostly like yourself—if you ignore the paleness of your skin and neck wound openly displayed, unable to be hid behind your shirt collar. He takes you in for one final hug, breathing in your scent, like you would with him. It pained him that you smelled like gunpowder and blood in your last moments, but at least the perfume Karen offered to put on you made a small difference. He embraces you for a long time, enough for Charles to come back and interrupt, asking Micah if it'd be okay now. And Micah knew you needed peace; so he agreed.

His eyes could barely stay opened as Charles shuffled dirt over your body, losing the sight of you slowly. He bit his lip, watching the last of your face get lost in the surrounding dirt. His eyes watered briefly, but he couldn't let himself cry in front of Charles, so he shoved it down.

Charles tapped the back of the shovel over the dirt pouch, flattening it out before taking a step back. "There," He turns to Micah briefly. "I'll leave 'ya to.. process it. Seems you still need to." He hums before walking away, leaving Micah holding back tears before your grave.

Despite never being a religious man, he hoped that an ending was real and that you'd gotten your peace, even in your brutal suffering.

People in camp mourned you and visited your grave for a few weeks before most stopped and moved on. But Micah couldn't.

He was there every day—early morning to late evening, if not downright sleeping at your burial. He had issues with insomnia before, and you always made it easier to fall into the slumber he always hoped for. Sleeping next to your grave hasn't helped too much, but he feels better; not wanting you to rest alone, by your wish you vocalised when Dutch wanted to split your tent apart. Your grave was cared for immensely, and there was barely any space around it from the overwhelming amount of flowers Micah had either bought or planted himself. He had one of the girls teach him how, and made sure to include dozens of tulips. He knew what you liked.

"You've been gone three and a half months, baby. I still bring 'ya tulips.. but I'm not sure if you're getting tired of them." He spoke to your gravestone a lot; he missed your voice immensely, now regretting the few times he'd space out while you yapped his ear off about some random topic. "I planted a few roses, I know you like 'em too."

"Hope you can see and hear me, darlin'. Did you know I got your name into my other barrel, huh?" He takes his right revolver out, tracing his fingers over the initials he carved into the guns' barrel. "Yeah... it's real nice, huh?" He holstered the weapon again, looking down at you under the dirt patch for a moment before looking up at the sky. Somehow, it always looked the prettiest when he'd visit you.

"That's you, ain't it, sweetheart?"

The sky was a mix of neon oranges and pinks, slowly fading into light, morning blues as the sun made its way up the horizon. The clouds were nowhere to be found, letting the sun pass into another day. Another day he spent with you.

"Hi to you too, my sweet girl."

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated! Finally finished this fic dear God. I want this man so bad its unreal chat.

[everythingseasoning]

Suguru Geto - JJK character analysis (near complete?)

“I gave everything I had, and it failed. It all crashed in front of me. And nobody did anything— not before me— not now. I’m seeing something nobody else sees. I’m sitting in these shadows and nobody cares about me. And here Gojo is, not doing a thing— and they praise him.” - my interpretation of Geto’s thought processes post Riko Amane’s assassination.

Crying about Geto because he went through so much. Geto was compassionate and idealistic before he defected. After such intense, prolonged trauma caused by the darkness of humans, and after growing disillusioned towards the world due to how unhelpful jujutsu society was— Geto felt utterly confused, resentful, and abandoned. The very system that was supposed to represent goodness (Jujutsu Society) simply prolonged the cycle of pain and suffering. It failed everyone— it failed him. Everything he’d believed was a shattered mirror, reflecting the cracks and flaws of humanity— and Geto saw that. Jujutsu Society praised Gojo for his innate talent, whilst neglecting the cracks in its system and the world, and neglecting Geto. In Geto’s turmoil, Geto was overcome by disenchantment— losing his faith and shedding his past sense of self— his good nature replaced with bitterness towards Gojo, simultaneously accompanied with a developed, narrow perspective on normal humans. (As we see with “Are you the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo, or are you Satoru Gojo because you’re the strongest?” — Geto brings up the age old question of nature Vs nurture. He’s essentially asking Gojo if his power is the reason for his success, or if his power shaped his identity. Who is Gojo? Did he get any choice in defining himself? —He didn’t. Gojo’s whole personality is based off of his power, which determined how he was treated— the Strongest, seen as a functioning tool. —And regarding Gojo’s power: What was once a deep admiration towards Gojo, turned into resentment and envy from Geto’s end, as Geto realized Gojo wasn’t changing the corrupt systems, nor did Geto have the luxury of power to have made a difference. Geto felt spurned, and also believed normal people were unworthy of ruling, and the only way to save the world from its already unjust systems was to overthrow everything and use power to rule. After all, power is all that matters in terms out how you can change the world, which is your worth in the world— and Geto wanted that. He wanted power. He wanted to be worthy the way Gojo was— he was hurting. Maybe if he had Gojo’s level of power, he wouldn’t be in this much pain. Maybe he would’ve been able to stop other people from being evil and actually have had footing in this world. Maybe people would be listening to him, appreciating him. —Or maybe, Jujutsu Society was just a phony, after all. And normal humans were useless to change anything— all they did, in Geto’s mind, was feed into the evil nature of the world. …Geto became resentful, callous, cold, evil because of the wrongdoings inflicted on him, which resulted in his misinformed beliefs about humans and his behavior run wild with blind spite. He truly believed that the pain he inflicted on humans was justified, and he reveled in it because he had been hurt so deeply and saw it as reparations, even.

Do I believe what Geto did was okay? Absolutely not. He had much too rigid a way of seeing humans— as all bad— and that was a fallacy. But he was only 17 when he faced such confusing, extreme, difficult circumstances, and it distorted his worldview. I can’t blame him. He WAS good. But being around constant darkness wore him down, thus he descended into a callous man devoid of empathy. His actions after defecting are deplorable and not okay, however, he truly deserves compassion too. Many others, had they been in his situation, would’ve ended up horribly warped too.

How could Geto have done better, so as not to become the evil, rigid and disillusioned, cold and harmful, person he became? This is an important question. I’m still figuring it out myself. This analysis is to be continued. For now I’d say that he was unable to empathize with humans beyond his own pain and suffering, and it’s a cautionary tale about how wrapped up we can get in our own trauma and suffering— which leads us to being incapable of seeing and understanding things beyond our own individual pain, which leads us to inflicting undue injustice into others. It’s crucial that we take the time to understand the depth and complexity of humanity. The inherent value in humans.

I’m sorry, Geto. For all you went through, and for ever judging you without the fuller scope of understanding. You deserved better.

[amyintherapy]

Things I've Learned in 18 months of therapy

When people repeat the same patterns of behavior that are more negative than positive, it's usually trauma related. Examples: Your sister who has dated 15 different men who all are emotionally unavailable, short-fused guys who don't respect her. Or your aunt who has gotten into severe debt several times in her life, always buying items she doesn't need. Or your friend who has always befriended people who are not disabled but don't work and chronically need 'favors' so they end up allowing people to mooch off them to the point of it harming their own financial security. Basically anytime you find yourself frustrated and wondering 'why do they always DO that?" or "why don't they just do X instead? They always do Y which just makes things worse..." the answer likely is, they have trauma related to this issue, and/or their behavior is related to their trauma response that they are stuck in. Of course, this is true for you also! If you keep reacting to certain situations in a way you dislike, or going back to a coping method that you see as harmful and can't figure out why you can't stop...it's probably trauma related in some way.

Part of being traumatized involves your brain trying to hide the trauma from you..at least most of it, if not all of it. My therapist has used the example of a piece of paper that is standing upright. You might see the fine edge of the paper, so you sometimes know a piece of paper is in front of you, but you can only see the edge, so when that paper finally gets turned so that it's facing you and you can read everything written on it, it kinda knocks you over and you feel like you should have known all of that all along...after all, the paper was right there. But you couldn't read it before, and you didn't even know there was all that writing on it anyway so you didn't realize such a big piece of your puzzle was missing. In other cases, the paper may be more like...trapped in a book, so it was always there, but you had no idea it was as you thought it was just part of the book, not this hand-written note hidden inside. So anyway, it's very normal to feel shocked at how lacking in awareness you were about the full impact or detail of your trauma once you get on a roll with therapy. I always knew I had trauma, and I've always been a self-reflective person...so I thought I was self aware of my trauma. But I've been surprised at how much I was failing to see fully.

ADHD is stupidly named. Having ADHD doesn't mean you have a deficit of attention. It means you can't control (aka regulate) your attention the way most people can. Tons of people with ADHD would tell you that they feel like they have too much attention. They are interested in ALL the things which is why they struggle to keep their focus on one thing while blocking out everything else going on around them. The things you do that cause you problems, were things you originally did to protect yourself. For example, maybe your addiction started because you were reaching for emotional relief and had no other (healthier) way to make yourself feel better. Or maybe you shut down and isolate when you're hurt, because when you tried reaching out for support as a child it just made things worse because your caregiver was reactive instead of supportive. Endless examples, but people do things for a reason. Your coping methods have a logical cause of some kind or another, even if they do more harm than good now, that wasn't always the case. At one time, they helped you cope with or avoid some bigger pain or problem. Depression and anxiety are both forms of avoiding other feelings. Much of general society knows the concept that "anger is a secondary emotion" (which is only sometimes true, it's also a core emotion) but I didn't know this was true of anxiety and depression. They're always secondary emotions. However, it's important to differentiate between sadness and depression, and fear and depression. Fear and sadness/grief are core emotions, but anxiety and depression are secondary. The fact that I am detail-focused and couldn't be concise if my life depended on it, are both ADHD related for me. Social anxiety is usually attachment trauma aka an insecure attachment. Anxiety and depression are often caused by trauma. I wish I knew this earlier. I spent a lot of time thinking of my anxiety was simply genetic or sort of temperament based and therefore unlikely to be healed or fixed. I don't mean to suggest that genetics or temperment isn't some element but...I can't help but wonder how many people are like me and don't realize they could heal a lot of their anxiety or depression by doing trauma work. I'm definitely still an anxious person, but I've seen a really big improvement in my anxiety. More than I thought was possible two years ago. Most kids and teenagers are avoidant in therapy, so they don't usually see as much progress from the experience, at least compared to adults. It's often a rather slow process to see improvement. However, it's still really helpful in the longrun if they have a positive experience with therapy as a teen, they're likely to try again as an adult when they're really ready to face their issues. Online, I've seen child therapists outright say that their #1 goal with kids in therapy is to make them think of therapy positively so they'll come back to therapy when they're older! I saw some progress in therapy as a teen for sure, but the 4+ years of it resulted in roughly as much (if not less?) progress than I've seen in 18 months of therapy as an adult. Apparently that's quite common. Talking about trauma feels awful, and it often makes me leave trauma-related therapy appointments wondering if there is any point or if i'm just making myself sad. A "okay, I understand this issue I have now was caused by XYZ experience from my past...but wtf do I DO about it? I understand it now, but I still have no clue how to fix it?" type of feeling. This is the result of being too close to the current day to see the full picture. Over the course of time, the benefits and healing always become apparent to me.

People who get angry often are sort of the opposite of me. I default to feeling anxious when I "should" feel angry (like when someone is rude to me), and sometimes also when I 'should' be sad. Most people who experience chronic anger are simply people who are converting their fear and/or sadness into anger. It's sometimes the difference between being an internalize and an externalize. Anger is an external emotion, fear/anxiety is an internal one. So if you struggle to externalize, you'll convert anger to sadness or fear, and if you struggle to internalize you'll convert sadness and fear to anger.

My "small t" traumas - like emotional neglect, are at least as impactful as my "big T" trauma (sexual abuse) was.

Sensory issues are common in ADHD, not just autism even though the content online often makes it seem exclusive to ASD.

I am probably forgetting a lot, but if I don't publish this now I never will. So if I think of more later, I'll just add on. :)

[f4nrir]

hey do you think I could get a Miguel x reader hurt/comfort fic where he comforts a reader who has relationship trauma? sorry if this is too much, you can decline it

i love you so

一 pairing; miguel o'hara x gn!reader

note: no worries anon, it was nice to write for something like this. brought me some comfort ‹𝟹

cw: angst in the beginning, yelling, mentions of bad anger, soft, comfort!fic.

word count: 853

you hated yelling. and you hated when miguel would do it. 

understanding the stress and pain he has to endure, it still frightened you to hear his blood-curdling yells when he was angry, sometimes throwing objects around to take his frustration out.

oh, how you hated that too. 

even though he acted this way, he never once laid a finger on you or took it out on you in any way, which you appreciated a lot. however, on days when his temper gets to be worse, you suddenly don’t know what to do with yourself. miguel was angry with the situation with miles and his voice boomed, echoing within the walls of the facility as he spoke. you started fidgeting with your hands as you irritably clenched your jaw, doing your best to distract yourself as he continued to speak. everyone else tensed up just the same, awkward glances being shared with each other as equipment fell to the floor. 

“that’s enough, miguel” you mumbled, causing him to stop in his tracks. he scoffed, a sarcastic smile plastered on his face, “you gonna defend him too?”

you shook your head in response and everyone else took it as a sign, quickly leaving the area to give you both a moment to speak to one another. “no, you just need to control your anger..” glancing up at him, you saw the fury in his eyes and it was a familiar sight you’ve seen before. a huge lump formed in your throat and you closed your eyes, expecting to hear more yells but instead he engulfed you in a warm embrace. you relaxed within his touch and clutched onto his shoulders, burying your face into his neck as a few tears slipped out from your eyes. 

“lo siento mi tesoro…” he coos in your ear as he gently rubs your back, holding you in his arms as the guilt settled in within his heart. the rage took over him and he didn’t realize how his actions would affect you, even if his rage wasn’t targeted towards you. “esto no tiene nada que ver contigo. no es culpa tuya, cariño.” [t: this has nothing to do with you. it's not your fault]

his sweet words and terms of endearment got to you, melting your heart and you felt as if you were putty in his arms. you haven’t had the courage to speak up about that part of your past, as it was a sensitive topic that has never been easy to talk about. but with miguel, he made it better. you knew he’d always treat you with respect and kindness, a form of love that is rarely shown in most relationships, but you were lucky. 

“thank you, miguel” you lifted your head and wiped your tears, finding the courage to look him straight in the eyes. 

“hey, hey i got you. you don’t have to worry, mi amor. i got you.” he murmured against your ear as he continued to rub your back, mumbling sweet words to get you to calm down. 

“i know baby, just please work on it. it’s terrifying to witness at times and i know i didn’t say anything—“ he cut you off before you could finish with a soft kiss, delicately holding your face in between his calloused hands. he pulled away afterward to kiss your face, gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. you leaned into his touch, finally finding the courage to look up at him. 

“you don’t ever have to apologize for that. i understand, and you’re right,” he took your hands and began to kiss them, from the back of your hand to your palms, then your knuckles. “i will work on it. i shouldn’t have reacted that way, regardless of what’s going on”

you pulled him into another warm embrace, holding him close to you as you also rubbed his back for comfort. it was a sign of reassurance and he relaxed in your touch, noticing that he leaned into you as you held him. “i love you” he chimed as he pulled away and lifted your chin up to make you look at him. you smiled, staring into his brown hues as you admired him for how he is. “te quiero tanto” you whispered against his lips and he gave yours a quick peck, before checking the time on his watch. 

he piped up, “it’s getting late– we could do something tonight. something soft, it’s about time i stop thinking about this for a bit” he turned off the system and put away his files, saving it for another time to go through. miguel figured nothing was going to change and he didn’t need to stress himself out even further, as he also wanted to take care of your relationship and right his wrongs. you loved him for this, clearly understanding what he meant by it. after helping him clean up his mess, you both left the base and made your way back home. the evening was spent with loving kisses and cuddles, just pure love and adoration for one another.

[hiseyeisonthesparrow]

hi!

im lds too. I mean kinda. my family got shunned by our ward and then stake and its caused a lot of shakiness in my faith. I want to believe and go back but it's so hard when I share my experiences with others and they mitigate my pain and excuse the actions of the men who caused this. Any tips?

Thank you so much for sharing your story with me!

This is going to sound like the opposite of what you are expecting or wanting to hear, but when everyone else in the world seems to have turned their back on you, the most important thing you can do is build your relationship with God and Christ themselves. Sometimes the only people who will fully understand you is the one who created you (God) and the one who felt all the pain and hurt and misery you have experienced, are experiencing, and will ever experience (Jesus).

Going back to the basics of the Gospel has been really important for me -- instead of challenging my faith by trying to understand complex social issues with strong emotions behind them [stuff like queer membership, race in the priesthood, abortion, et cetera], finding things that I know I can believe and trust is important, even if it's as silly or simple as "I believe that some celestial force out there loves me because I was able to buy my favorite shirt before it sold out forever" or "I believe that being in the temple makes me feel peaceful" rather than things I still can't say with confidence like "I know the church is true" or "I believe the nuclear family unit is eternal".

When Covid struck, I was attending a ward in Utah. We kind of absolutely hated it -- after attending multi-cultural, multilanguage wards our whole life, the sudden plainness and overpopulation of Utah wards was so strange to us. Suddenly, lockdowns happened. Church was online and sacrament meetings were held from our home. The year or two we spent doing "home church" -- a weekly Zoom call with our extended family where our cousins would take turns giving talks, and my deacon brother would pass homemade bread to us -- was one of the most spiritually strengthening experience of my life. After Covid restrictions ended, we couldn't go back to our old ward -- none of them would wear masks, and my youngest brother couldn't get vaccinated. We ended up moving our records to a Portuguese branch half an hour north, and it was one of the best decisions we've ever made.

I don't know what your family situation is like. I am not going to pretend like The Power of Christ Can Heal All Intergenerational Trauma. While Christ did help me learn to love my parents and understand their perspective, it did not take away the fact that they did not support me through my most difficult times. But I will say this: if there is anything you can do to possibly come closer to your family, do it. This is a hard experience for all of you, I can imagine. If there is a way you can strengthen each others' testimonies, it will be unimaginably helpful. Finding others who understand the hardships you are going through is one of the best ways to get through it, and it's really convenient if those people have a) known you your whole life, and b) live with you. It may not work. They may never support you or understand your pain. But try.

Instead of turning to hate those who have hurt you, make an effort to focus your energy on the things of the Gospel that make you feel joy. Making death threats to Dallin H. Oaks will never be as helpful as being a good example for those around you, or learning to love Christ's gospel. It will be one of the hardest things you will ever do. But to quote Yoda, "Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering" -- for all parties involved. Allow yourself time to grieve, to be angry, to feel hurt. But simultaneously let those feelings be washed away in time by the healing power of the atonement.

If you ever feel alone or unloved by Christ or far from salvation, you are wrong. There are armies here and on the other side of the veil to bring you back to Him. Some of the strongest testimonies I've ever encountered have been here on Tumblr, by people with backgrounds similar to mine. We are here to help you. That's what being Christ's disciple entails -- helping others. Queerstake and Tumblrstake are here for you. I am here for you. Christ is here for you. Reach out with questions about your faith -- we love to answer them.

(Also if there's an opportunity to sneak into another ward or stake's church services, do it. You don't owe anyone an explanation of who you are or why you're there)

Thank you so much for your ask! I hope I answered the question well enough -- if anyone else has anything they think would be helpful, please share it!!

[loveyourlovelysoul]

Growing up with someone who kept on judging you, pointing out when you were doing even the most normal things ever (as having a cookie at 4/5PM), but in a repetitive and kinda abusive way, is really painful. It shakes you from the inside. It makes you doubt about what you do, about you being wrong, not being enough. Especially if it's the cherry on top of many other abusive behaviours you have experienced.

It's something that probably your caregiver, being triggered themselves by that same action, cannot consciously understand nor refrain from doing. It's their mind going "Oh, they're doing this thing! Point it out! They're worse than you, yay!", cause of how they probably had to grow up as well, being judged, being accused for no particular reason. Maybe sometimes they still do that same action, but in their mind they feel as if it's wrong or aren't behaving (even if nobody judges them directly anymore, their mind is simply wired that way). They probably always felt a second choice compared with someone else in their family, not smart or good enough, they may have felt guilty too after doing any normal action, and now they seek comfort in judging others and feeling better than them. And seek validation from others as well, by pointing these things out loud too, in a repetitive way. Making you feel even worse. They may even compare what you do to other people that they normally consider "bad", people they like to watch and judge a lot, and point out their mistakes or quirks too. This ofc can only make it worse to you, cause your unconscious mind reads this as "You're as bad as them in your caregiver's mind". And it makes you shut down entirely and give up or stop your action. Which, instead, makes your caregiver get offended: "I was only saying, why do you stop?". And this starts a new situation: you are getting a double opposite feedback. And you don't know what to trust. You cannot trust someone that gaslights and manipulates you. But it's still their mind, not letting them see what they are doing to you, not letting them realize is what they have been going through all their life and are repeating onto you. They cannot stop or see the reason behind all that they are doing, they cannot understand that they are hurting you, even if they went through the same. Minds work so subtly at times.

But please, you. Try your best to let them be. Focus on you, do what you want and let your caregiver speak. Don't take their words so deeply into you. I know they pain you, I know. But focus on what makes you happy and, despite the abuse (which is hard to not pay attention too), find your way to complete any action you were doing that was supposed to make yourself happy, and to take care of yourself. Maybe tell your caregiver they are hurting you with their words. Talk with them, help them realize. Or just pretend they're not there. I know it's very hard, but I also know you can make it. You come first. and you're not doing anything wrong, despite what your caregivers' mind wants you to think. Push away from you their own trauma. It's not yours. It's not you.

This doesn't have to happen only with your caregivers tbh. It can happen also in other type of relationships. Your family though, may make these type of thoughts much more rooted inside of you cause you have been forming a lot of your emotional side in your early days. But whatever is the type of abusive relationship you may have experienced, please, try to find your peace of mind, to get away from it at least mentally. To stand your ground and talk things out (but ofc if it's someone way too abusive, just leave).

[hero-next-door]

Defending Nathan Prescott

(From Every Accusation)

All fact proven & common sense theory

No bullshit.

I suck at grammar. Deal with it.

I've replayed the game far too many times to gather this. I read into everything and even read into and WATCHED people who have suffered the same mental illness and situations Nathan has been in.

What I'll be covering:

Illness, rib breaking, dead animals, bdsm, Chloes pic, Rachel, gun on campus, Kate, Pompidou, Jefferson, wealth and his father.

And dont even THINK about skipping ahead!

Everything here is tied into one another. Read from start to finish. You're on this post to understand, right? Or to argue? Im not here to argue so, bye.

Lets start from the top...

Nathans downfall was caused by society and all who failed him. He's driven by hatred of others who don't understand him, and the game purposly wrote him off that way. They want players to hate him from what sides of the stories we've experienced. They gave this character controversial hobbies and a cynical bully attitude to really keep you suspecting him and not guessing Jefferson. The game isn't about Nathan. It's about Max. We learn so much about Max and everyone close to her. The tears they shed, the pains they've endorsed. Same with Chloe and Rachel's story. My heart goes out to all of them. We don't get to see that with other characters. Therefore, we don't care for them...or that's the games' intentions. We don't know the ins and outs of Nathan. Only what the game shows us, which are all negative. So, of course, disliking Nathan is only reasonable.

Mental Illness

We start with mental illness. He has Psychosis. Lots of proof, but i'm assuming you've seen it all already. Like, do people know what Psychosis is? Do they REALLY know what it is? Because this ALONE changes everything. And not Psychopathy ..Psychosis. Two different things, pookie. Psychopathy is the one where part of the brain is missing or disturbed. THEY'RE the ones that don't have empathy. Psychosis is different. Anybody can get it. This illness can take your empathy and awareness away, then bring it all back after the harm is done, leaving you to process that. Schizo and Bipolar are also all quite a handful to deal with too. Loud Noises/downgrading voices in your head SO LOUD that people will do anything to calm them. (Dont be shy, youtube: "28- Psychotic Episode" by Collège d'Alma) The feeling of loosing your mind is something I notice a lot of haters dont empathize on especially if they killed or hurt sombody. The brain slips into a state so disconnected that interviews with recovering patients I've seen describe it as confusing and scary and dont recall saying the stories they told and actions they did others. Imagine not being able to remember the hurtful things you've said and done. Imagine being told you killed somebody... with your own hands? And you can hardly remember what happened. Like... how would you react? Think about it. Anybody can get psychosis with enough trauma or a kick in the noggin. Some people who were interviewed that had psychosis said that they found relief when getting high or drunk. Little did they know the symptoms could bounce back up to 5x during withdrawal. But they were so desperate to get rid of the voices that they abused the drugs. Like....wow the game really did their research to create such a complicated character. Anyway, moving on.

Edit: After further research, he certainly had bipolar disorder first. Then it went left untreated, therefore sunk him to worse mental state of many other illnesses. Drugs only made things much, much worse. Bipolar disorder can cause schizo and schizo to lead to psychosis. 🙄Jesus Nathan quit hogging all the illnesses.

Now, let's break down everything else...

Shooting Chloe

Just rewatch it. Aims gun, Chloe pushes him, it tightens grip, ACCIDENTLY shoots her, immediately drops gun and gets really scared of he's done, checking to see if she's alive! If you specifically rewatch the ending of Lis1 when Chloe gets shot, they extend his reaction. He goes back and forth, checking her body. If he wanted to kill her, you check pulse and then run. Not sticking around crying about it. There's your empathy you're all saying he doesn't have. Other times where he could have shown more empathy ties with his Psychosis. Some people with the illness said that the voices loudly in their head will convince them that everyone around you is your enemy. Everyone is after you. It can twist your brain to feel anger and fear towards others. Nathan is always hung up on how everyone is using him and trying to control him. Which people ..DO use him. So now he's convinced that everyone is. He's not choosing to feel this way. He just needs psychiatric help.

Breaking Ribs

In Before The Storm, his entire demeanor is completely different than the Lis 1. He's more cowardly and not loud and aggressive. We'll be mentioning his creepy "pervy" binder later. Nathan isn't violent until the end IF you let Nathan get bullied and push his life in a negative direction. Sure, it's not Chloe's responsibility, but this is the game's way of showing you his downfall. We need to remember the game hides scenes and expect you to make up what happened behind the scenes. He broke Samantha's ribs over ..what? She's always so desperate to defend Nathan and even gets upset with Chloe when she doesn't help. So, if you tell her the wrong option to pressure kindness into Nathan, it results in him breaking ribs. How, though? Haters immediately hop online to say cause he's a mean and abusive non-empathic nut head. Are you sure he didn't just push her away, and her clumsiness just fell over? This took place after the play...so he possibly...pushed her off... 😰 She did say she was clumsy. You don't think she would have tried to hug or touch him in any way. Ok ok...calm down... Let's take a step back.. You get this "breaking ribs," ending from letting Nathan get bullied and embarrass himself during the play that his father pressured him about! Adding a little "..fuck you.." to the audience. Showing his start to his villain career and the start of him hating everyone, and you tell Samantha to go hug him!? This is the start of his mental spiral if you let things play out this way. But hurting her with intention? No. Lets tie this in with the other endings to their relationship. You get the clumsy ending. She hurts herself differently, and Nathan is with her in the hospital. Saying how he feels bad that she got hurt. (empathy bell) And they continue yo talk about her photo or whatever. Tie this with the rib one, tie this with the Chloe getting shot incident, and tie this with his mental illness. Come on, do i gotta spell it out for you.. Hurting someone is not what he attends to do. Like he quotes in his voice mail. (Speaking of that voice mail, empathy bell.) He does get angry at Samantha and hurts her, and we as players dont know the full story. But what was playing in his head seconds before and the entirety of the game that led up to this IS the reason why he accidentally hurts her. His anger from the entire game was built up and, unfortunately, released on her. Whatever happened, breaking her ribs was not on his to-do list! And then we have.. The good ending. He sits beside her, smiling.

Oh, wait! He's a little psycho with no human emotion? Psychosis has all parts of the brain attached, pookie. For most cases, It can be cured and helped. I can get it. YOU can get it. He has human emotions when he is at his very rare peaceful moments like with this good ending, when with Victoria ig and other scenes we tend to forget. Because painting him as the villain was the games goal. Jefferson was the plot twist.

Daddy Issues, Smug Talk, and a Gun on campus

Simple guys. Simple. You represent this school. You represent our name. This is a legacy. You will not embarrass me. This isn't about you or your problems!

Sure, YOU wouldn't crumble under that pressure, but Nathan sure did. Sure, child abuse isn't an excuse to "kill" people. But is it the child's fault? Sean-beanbag prescott should be arrested for not taking his boy to the asylum. Instead, he argues with a doctor!? Goofy, bro. But so many people are fueled with anger towards Nathan instead. It's whatever. Prescott, literally being his name, was already a red flag to other characters and chose to hate and bully him over it. Drew hated for what his FATHER did. Nathan did ..what again? Notice how that "rich Malfoy talk" wasn't really present in Before The Storm. Sure he tried to burn Drew with a family financial situation insult but the "Im rich, my father owns everything, I got a lawyer, money this and that" wasn't in his character in the Before the Storm. I believe being a prescott wasn't really in his future goals, and he wasn't ever really passionate about it. It's all in the annoyance in his tone with his father before the play. Lis1 he uses it so often to show that he's the boss and in control. He is influenced by representation for his family/school, wealth, intimidation, and of course hatred and believing everyone hates him. In his mind, everyone is against him, after him, and wants to use him. Again, he doesn't choose to think this way. Let me explain my last sentence clearly, though. Imagine being surrounded by a ton of people. All their attention is on you. They hate who you are. They talk about you. You have a defensless stomach sinking feeling and scared because all these people surrounding you are looking at you and all your insecurities and laughing at you. Well, obviouslysome of that is not going on in reality. But to Nathan, that IS his reality, and he has no control over it. Anyways I shouldn't have to keep explaining mental illness and how it stresses the brain. The bottom line is that his status and waving a gun around is what he thinks keep others out of his head. He can barely throw a punch. He had to use his head on warren, and did you catch when Max hit him in that scene? The dude was literally holding onto his face like he'd been battered. Like she did NOT hit that hard lmao. He's weak. He's always been the same tiny Nathan from before the storm. Just now, he uses masks for intimidation to stop his bullies, and anyone he thinks is "after him." He never meant to use a gun on anybody, just a threat. During the second scene where warren reunited a head butt with Nathan.. If you pull off warren, he barely even aims the gun when he runs away towards his room. Cowardly. He feels that he has to, to protect himself. He also uses his father as a threat, but clearly, that never worked. Also, I noticed him crying when you let Warren get crazy on him? Dudes apologizing and sobing? Guess that's not his first rodeo, rip.

Dead Animals

There is no proof he hurt animals. That's not really like him. He does have a list of illnesses, but Psychopathy isn't one of them. Y'all can keep yappin, but it's not. Clearly NOT one of them. He could have hurt an animal during an unaware episode, but there will not be any awareness behind it. Anyways, there are plenty of artists that do the same thing. Nathan is very passionate about photography and protraying solitary but not in the same way Jefferson does. Jefferson certainly uses that manipulation, but we'll get to that later. There are artists that like to shine on death in a positive light and in sorrow. There's also beauty in anatomy. It's not my cup of tea, but someone close to me can name me all kinds of gross organs and would be down to disect any animal. Yuck. But to them.. its fascinating, and they are the greatest people in my life. In love and in empathy. (NOT comparing my pookie to Nathan, PAUSE.) In anatomy theres Education and surprise. Death is also a theme and style too. Skulls and gore, super "rad" fukin "knarly."

BDSM Skip to (●) next part if needed

Ok.. so he's a little frisky. Y'all need to remember this is a fictional game first, okay? Lol Anyway, I can't defend him much here, but I got something. Firstly, the game WANTS you to suspect Nathan. Can't keep his room pretty and pink. They have to make it freaky and spooky. They paint Nathan as the villian for you to only focus on him as a suspect. So that everyones jaws are dropped with Jefferson twirls in.

Anyway...defending BDSM? This can bring trauma to those who have experienced it negatively or view it negatively. So skip to the Frank defense or read more if you want.

Bdsm relationships are very controversial. Some people see it as unhealthy, abusive, and sick. But if you have talked to or listened to other people within these relationships, they state that its completely consensual, safe, harmless, a breach of deep trust with their partners, and simply a fetish or kink The goal is to have fun at your limit..not pass the limit. There are twisted people who have broken that barrier and made it not fun and abusive. That's where I can't argue. If you feel that way towards the topic, I completely empathize with you.

Nathan has shown in his other photos a black and white theme of solitary. And you can tell that he might have taken those bdsm photos himself. As the quality is almost like the Pompidou photo. Everyone blends him taking bdsm photos with his angry behavior and "non empathic" demeanor. But this is where I loop back to Before The Storm hugging-my-binder Nathan. It's shown that in one of his endings, he took photos of Samantha. Obviously, NOT bdsm photos. His binder was a school project. But Samantha obviously consented, and Nathan was passionate enough to show her. He sees them as art. Naked girls have been models for sculptures and paintings. Its beauty. That's IF she was naked in some way in those photos. Which I still doubt. School project. Im sure the photos were gentle and strange and misunderstood, and Drew was just in his bully era. His reaction would have been a lot more eye-opening if he had a face full of tits or straps. Nathan begged for his binder back and even nervously reacted, showing he had love for his work and 'took time with it' (as he quotes when Drew throws it). I bring this up here to show that the women in his photos were indeed given consent, and if hes passionate about depicting his art, hurting them wouldn't be on his agenda. As we all learned today that hurting people was never his intentions until drugs and illness met with pressure and intimidation clouds his brain.

I read up on other artists that painted things similar. In their paintings, they expressed dread, vulnerability, feeling traped, and ..feeling used. If Nathan did find the images he took arousing, then why would he hang them up like everything else in his room like art? I believe that they're depicted in an artful way and in its black and white shading brings a sad darkness. If it's anything like the painters I mentioned, maybe Nathan has a deep level of empathy we don't understand.

●Frank and Pompidou

I didn't even know he took a picture of Franks hurt dog in the road because you little freaks threw his treat in the street!? This will also tie in to chloes pic, but we'll get to that. Frank first, as it's pretty simple. Nathan runs some system with Frank. And it's pretty obvious it's the same thing Drew was doing in Before the Storm. Nathan clearly doesn't like it as he finds it controlling, but getting his hands on drugs is a great way to forget his flaws and calm his illness symptoms. Which only created a loop of his symptoms worsening, as talked about before. His illness is very active towards the end of Before the Storm. You can tell by his huge character difference that drugs only made it worse.

Pompidou is a good dog, but just remember he's not the one who hurt him. This ties in with what we explained in the dead animal phase. The Imagine is black and white. It's a strange art most people don't understand. Man, I don't even understand it. But these people aren't heartless, and they're simply expressing pain. Or.. he took it for the same reason he took Chloes pic. To feel that he's in control, thinking this will help his mental reality of thinking everyone can use him, as explained earlier. But i doubt it. One is in color, and Pompidou is not. One is misguided, and one is "art."

Jefferson, Rachel, Kate, Chloes pic

If i see one more person throw him in the same trash bin as Jefferson, im going to puke. Anyway, I've twisted my head around this story so many times, begging to see the bigger picture. No pun attended. Jefferson was pulling the strings all along ..you know that, right? If Nathan was never there, Jefferson would have still done his disgusting projects. He certainly brought Victoria over without Nathan's usage. He didn't need Nathan, Nathan just made it easier cause he can easily be manipulated. Making Nathan do it all so the consequences will fall on him. Jefferson is smart and knows the right words to say. Nathan is missing the kindness of a father figure. All he has to do is play with his feelings. Nathan falls too easily to kindness. He felt the kindness of Samantha during the good ending, and He felt the kindness from Victoria.. but Victoria toxic bully nature wasn't helping. The bottom line is Jefferson easily manipulates him and understands his mental reality and uses that against him. Adding thoughts into Nathans head. Jefferson learned to use Nathan's illness to his advantage. Nathan trusted Jefferson as did everyone in that school. Why on earth would Jefferson wrong him? He looked up to him, so when Jefferson slowly brought him into his plans of drugging girls, Nathan thought that it was all ..moral. In reality, you and I know obviously that's not okay, but to Nathan (and his severe illness), he trusted Jefferson was doing no wrong. We don't understand the mental strain he was under. Manipulation goes a long way. Heres how he did it. He probably said things like 'We are the same Nathan, this is art just like yours.' It starts small, Nathan gets him the drugs. Then he pulls him in, and Nathan starts drugging the girls for me. Start driving them here. Start helping me inside the dark room. Start helping me inject my victims. Jefferson had so much power over him. He was connected with his father. He can threaten his grade, his representation, and his future in art. He knew all the right things to say and do. He knew how his head worked. Clog him up with drugs, and keep him quiet. Heal his missing father needs and demand him for your needs. Does this not make Nathan a victim, too?

Then ...the Rachel incident happened. Nathan was NOT mentally aware of what he's done. The excited "Rachel!" When he saw Max at the diner clearly shows that he truly expected her to pull up. This mixes with the symptoms we've discussed. He only remembers bits and pieces as obviously it was beyond traumatizing. Sending him in an insane spiral and the infamous psychosis drawing. (Don't be afraid, google psychosis drawings. Damn. Just imagine you recovered from psychosis and laying eyes on that and not remembering you drew that..ugh...I'd cry.) Someone with Psychopathy wouldnt feel traumatized from such events, debunking the fact everyone thinks Nathan has Psychopathy. He doesn't have Psychopathy, he has psychosis. Moving on. Jefferson was certainly angry with him and drugged Nathan himself after the incident, which really helped Nathan to forget what he's done. But Jefferson's anger and not talking to him tore him apart. His emotional attachment clearly wasn't having it. The note he wrote Jefferson in desperate attempt to bring him back after ruining Jefferson plans goes to show just how much he wants that sense of being cared for. If only it was someone else that wasnt Jefferson ..or his dad can do is fucking job too.

Alcohol was certainly a great method of forgetting what he did. So then comes Chloes' interaction with him. We know the story. He did not SA her, I can say that right here and now. Nothing like that was behind this. You can tell by the way Chloe presented the story to Max. There wasn't an uncomfortable tone to her story. She didn't seem traumatized but more shocked, and "it was pretty crazy." She also wasn't drugged for that long. She woke up very soon, fully clothed. What obviously happened is that Nathan used this to feel in control like the mentioned way above. Drugs and Psychosis is no jokes. Who knows what hell is playing in his mind, but I unfortunately believe that this was to try to win back Jefferson. He had been angry at him and ignoring him, and even tho he hates drugging, his confusion and drunk state led him to this. He's cowardly, and his mind is slipping and tries to do what he thinks is right for him. He's misguided and leads down the wrong path.

Nathan did not SA Kate! Kate story breaks my heart into a million pieces, but if she was SA-ed, it wasn't Nathan. After everything I said above, you can tell that that isn't in his character. But here I want to bring up the voicemail. Nathan claims multiple times that he never wanted to hurt anybody, implying that he felt forced to do harm. Something he DID NOT want to do. Why on earth would anybody have felt forced to SA somebody!? I'm not saying Kate WASN'T SA-ed as I can only assume maybe the boys she was shown with in the video did something or Jefferson. Victoria was Kates bully!!! Nathan wanted to be liked by Victoria and was influenced by her nature. He's desperate for attention and kindness. Victoria did far more to hurt Kate and her reason as to why was shit. You go THAT FAR to one up your photography game. Girl, bye. She spread that video, and she still has empathy, too? Her regretting everything? Did she reallyy regret it? Or did she want to make herself look good for her representation? She showed regret via text message in Before The Storm, too? She doesn't have a mental illness, but the game gave her an act of forgiveness and used her as a victim so the audience would sympathize with her. Goes to show you the game controls what they want you to feel. If they were to do that with Nathan..would opinons be different? Taking us into his mind and how he sees the world around him. They could have..but didnt. Well.. We have the voicemail, but obviously, that didn't stop the haters. It's unfortunate. But the game gave me just enough little clues for me to shine light on in this post. They put so much into his character but never showed the audience the truth.

Conclusion

What we've learned today is that Nathan isn't the villain you think. He's been manipulated, used, and needs mental help, but im sure my old Nathan-defending friends have said this time and time again. Im here to add something....

It's been PROVEN that he's capable of all human emotions. You just refuse to believe it because you're mistaking his illness and claiming all of this was intentional. Psychosis can be temporary. It's like a hand that steals your common sense, feelings, empathy, and sympathy, and you're only left with acting on pure chaos and negative or fearful emotions. After long treatment, your sense of reality returns, your feelings, your empathy, your sympathy.. And all you have now is guilt and regret and self blame that you hurt somebody. If you let Nathan kill Chloe, he is arrested. He had doctors aware of his illness and would have been charged with illness in mind. Forcing the treatment he needed ages ago. By the time Lis 2 came out... I wonder how he's taking it all in? What he did to everyone, what he did to Rachel.

He was written off to die, be locked up, and blamed. Unfortunately, he was caught in the crossfires of the harm of our favorite characters. If he was born in a different family and away from Jeff, he would have never hurt anybody. Matter a fact, he would never have suffered with his listed mental illnesses.

This goes out to all real accidental murder cases. There will always be a great divide in opinions. I hate comparing fictional games with real life, but I find it crazy that we call others nonempathtic when they aren't empathic themselves. It's like the word "accidental" is worthless.

Its always a debate..

Do we feel bad for the lives lost and their families

or

Do we feel bad for the mental crumble of the one who never meant to kill and how their familes have to deal with that.

Are they worthy to walk this earth? Are they worthy to see the daylight again? Are they still human, too? Should they die, too? Is redemption possible?

Who knows. Peoples opinions won't change unless they themselves fall onto the opposing team. If they were to suffer the chaos of accidentally murdering someone or the grief of losing someone from an accidental murder.

Red Nathan, the first Nathan we all experienced from Lis1. Damaged and doomed. Used and mentally obstructed. It's unfortunate things ended this way.

Blue Nathan, Appears in Before the slStorm and Max's alternate timeline. He is clean and hasn't touched drugs. He had not been involved in crimes or violence yet. In this alternate timeline, he has been somehow saved and kept away from mental destruction and Jefferson. We will never really know what drove Nathan towards this peaceful path, but I assumed that it was the kindness of Max that led him in the right direction. (Max somehow changed Victoria, too. With her demeanor being so gentle. I really am curious about the whole back story of that timeline... I think about it alot)

[crystalrainfall]

Dear Izumi Curtis,

Maybe stranding kids on an Island, with no survival tools other than a knife and forbidding the use of alchemy, their only real reliable source and means of survival to make things easier, since these are children, might've been a mentally deranged decision.

I do not care that an employee was there to take care of the children, if said employee's only purpose was to fight the already weakened, and vulnerable, hurt children and steal recourses, such as hard earned food, from them in order to "train" or "toughen" them up...

The real risk of that wound Ed obtained from a WILD fox is nothing to scoff at.

The wound could've been infected if not treated properly, which I don't think a couple of children could've done easily, regardless of if they are geniuses or not ...

It's still highly irresponsible.

That's not to mention the diseases that fox could've carried.

This scenario could've ended in such tragedy which is only caused through pure negligence.

I do not care that Izumi herself was trained in a much harsher scenario, she was clearly an adult during her training in Briggs and thus could probably asses the situation and consent.

Which children just can't, no matter how much a child thinks they know an 10-9 year old just isn't mature.

And I don't even think pinako, the legal guardian for the two boys at the time knew of this, because if she did she rightfully so wouldn't have allowed it....

I hate that this is played off as a joke, that the two were trained in an absurd way...It's so easy to forget that fma is an anime when it's usually very grounded in reality and tries to explore deep conflicts... But when similar serious topics get ignored, the handling of the other topics fall flat and almost ignorant...

Slapstick in 2003 doesn't work.

It doesn't when the show tries to tackle extreme topics and tries to take itself serious...

Edward fearing Izumi and being physically hurt by her isn't funny because it feels out of place in a show that's meant to tackle trauma...

It feels like these issues are ignored and undermined.

Like I get this part was supposed to be a joke but it just comes off as not funny... Because you're just left asking yourself "is this actually trauma or just a joke?"

Which I think is the wrong message.

Just that it unintentionally comes off as extremely manipulative, having someone who's supposed to be a maternal figure for Ed and Al show this much violence...

And mind you, this is exclusive to Ed and Al. No other kid has ever been hit or treated that way, yelled at?, sure, but even then it was mild. Tf kind of messaging is that? It's okay to harm the ones closest to you? You're doing it for their own good? As long as the person treats you good afterwards it's okay to be hit?

Like I know this is probably unintentional, because these issues just aren't addressed in the show, so it's not meant to be taken literally but damn did they miss the mark hard!...

Like this entire sequence just pisses me off, there's already a post on this site which discusses the harsh flinch that Ed had when Mustang approached him after Nina's death in the alleyway...

The 5th picture of him just expecting to be hit again and accepting it... Just is wrong...

Like is this kid just used to it? Being treated like dog shit by authority or adult figures in his life, by anyone that isn't his deceased mother?

And the entire scene is flat, no music no nothing... This is just painful to watch. The hug afterwards just comes off as empty, damage control, to apologize after hurting someone, but doing it again.