#tw abuse?? maybe??

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

So about Alastor. I promised.

Lucifer is on his weekly duty again. But something is different that day.

Lucifer: Here, Ad. I made you the-

Adam, takes it quickly and is closing the door*: Thank you goodby-

Alastor: Adam? Who is it?

Lucifer: You have a-?

Adam: NO ONE! Just-just a neighbor! *Whispering to Lucifer* GO!

Lucifer: But-!

Adam: He’s leaving now!

Alastor: Adam, where are your manners? Invite him to sit with us.

Adam: Shit. *Returning to Lucifer*

Lucifer: Who is it?!

Adam: Can-can you come in?

Lucifer: Sure but-

Adam: Please do and tell him you have to go.

Lucifer: But WHY?!

Adam: I-

Alastor, coming out of nowhere: Oh, so that’s your friend.

Alastor grins at Lucifer, gripping Adam’s shoulder.

Lucifer didn’t missed the way how it scared Adam.

Alastor: Forgive my surprised state, I didn’t knew he could talk to people anymore.

Lucifer, is beyond pissed at this guy: He can. Didn’t he already talked to you before I ever happened?

Alastor: Well, yeah, but I don’t count. Do I, Addie?

Adam: He doesn’t.

Lucifer: Good to know. May I come in?

Alastor grins even wider: You may. Right?

Adam: R-right.

Lucifer steps in and holds his hand out for Alastor: Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.

Alastor: Pleasure to meet you. Alastor *Surname*. Adam’s cousin and helper.

Oooooh now I GOTTA know what he does to have Adam fear him like that.

Lucifer internally: Helper my ass, more like enabler.

Lucifer: Nice to meet you too. *Enters the apartment, it's cleaner than before*

Alastor: Come, sit. I didn't know Addie made a friend.

Lucifer: I moved in six months ago, we met on my first day here.

Alastor: Really?

Adam, hissed: Lucifer. Leave.

He can tell by Adams body language how stressed and anxious he is.

Lucifer: Yeah, we're buds.

Alastor: Well good, he could always use a friend

Lucifer doesn't miss the way Adam flinched or how Alastors hand never left the brunettes shoulder.

Something is very wrong.

[galaxymagitech]

Bruce’s Favorite Batkid…according to the Batkids (aka the most biased narrators possible):

Dick: “Well, Bruce adopted Jason first, and hit me over his death, so Jason, obviously.”

Tim: “Bruce nearly killed people and himself over Jason’s death…he just used me as a guilt trip.”

Jason: “Uh, the Golden Boy, obviously. *cough* KGBeast *cough*”

Steph: “I mean, he only revived one of us…so it’s gotta be Damian, right?”

Duke: “Can you guys stop competing over whose death he reacted the worst to? Anyway Barbara’s so useful with the tech and also kinda scary, so it’s gotta be her.”

Damian: “Drake is most similar to Father and inherits his company. He is clearly in the favored position.”

Barbara: “He remembers literally every problem you guys have caused; Duke just hasn’t had the chance to cause as many problems yet. No offense, Duke.”

Cass: “Me. He thinks…I am him. He is wrong.”

No one thinks Steph is the favorite.

[lazylittledragon]

pt 1 of some much requested cyra lore

[uncanny-tranny]

Honestly, there is a certain type of fetishizing of violence that occurs when you are the victim of abuse - wherein people talk directly to you about how much they fantasize about your abuser/s dying and being killed - "all abusers must be killed!" they say.

As a victim of prolonged abuse, I never felt cared for when people indulged that information to me. It often feels like my abuse is being exploited for others to enact their own violent fantasies and secret desires - my abuse means nothing to them in the same way that I didn't matter to my abusers. It's not support - it's just another cycle of violence.

I'm begging people to care more about victims and survivors than they do about retribution of abusers. Nowhere along the way should your focus on the abuser outweigh the people affected by their abuse. If you truly want to support abuse victims and survivors, start with us

[howlingtothevoid]

I didn't realize your reasons and I didn't know your plans, until I became the same age you were back then and it horrifies me. I wish you had done more so I could prove the world I am right, and I wish you had done nothing to me at all. Isn't it weird how it works?

[pearsfears]

happy mothers day

[scrapoddles]

davekat takes on fatherhood

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: kidnapping, torture, sedatives, abuse, mentions of r*pists, p*dos, & murder, angst, helplessness, heavy subject matter all around, language, mdni

— notes: a continuation of this blurb. something a little darker than what i usually write. please be mindful that there's some heavy stuff ahead. if i forgot to tag anything, please let me know in the comments. thank you for reading!

— now playing: dusty room - evgeny grinko

An insistent dripping draws you from the inky embrace of unconsciousness. 

It always does. It’s been your alarm clock for the past…three days? Four? Week? You’re not sure anymore. Time moves differently when you’re in captivity, and your mind is constantly invaded and warped.

At first, you could glean the passage of time by the moon or sunlight seeping through the small window in the corner—your captors had shoved you into a spacious room of rotting metal walls and only one entry point. It reeked of mildew and sweat, and you’d nothing but the creak of metal and that ceaseless dripping sound to keep you company.

But your senses are no longer reliable. They’ve poked around your mind so much that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to gauge the difference between reality and fiction. 

Only a few things remain constant during your stay here: the henchman of the day comes in to administer you a dose of something potent with a syringe. Something to ease the ache of your limbs, to curb the hunger gnarling in your gut. But it’s also to keep your Evol tucked in the furthest reaches of your mind. To keep you at their mercy. 

Next, two more men trickle in, sinisterly laughing as they deprive you of food and warmth and keep you lucid. And one of them constantly probes your mind, manipulating it to see and experience things that aren’t always real. Dredging up memories you had compartmentalized after taking up this new life, furthering your torment. 

You would be impressed—their ability is almost on par with yours and would certainly make a man clad in red and black whistle with appreciation—if you weren’t already clinging to your sanity by a thread. 

Your captors have been surprisingly generous, only hitting you a few times when you get mouthy. You’d once heard them say to each other they had to keep you alive long enough to lure your boss from the shadows. Still, you’re sometimes their human punching bag, suspended from the ceiling by chains rubbing your wrists and ankles raw.

They learned their lesson when they first brought you to this prison. When you’d called them pussies and, with what little strength you could muster, took three of them down before they subdued you with stun batons and a heavier dosage of whatever cocktail they’d been pumping you with.

Each time they enter, they ask you more questions. Interrogate you about Sylus and the inner workings of Onychinus. Splash you with frigid water to wake you, inject more serum, and sink their claws into your psyche when you display an inkling of resistance. All in an attempt to bring you to the brink of insanity. To break you. 

You’re a little worse for wear. Bruised and battered. It hurts to breathe when the medicine wears off. You’re constantly shivering, constantly blacking out. You’re sure they’ve shattered a rib or two. And you haven’t much strength left, stripped of nourishment and proper blood circulation for God knows how long. 

You have one good eye, the other swollen shut from their previous assault. Your lips keep splitting, so goddamn dry. They could’ve done much worse. Could’ve violated you in unspeakable ways. So you’re grateful the illusions are seemingly their most potent form of torture. 

No matter how many levels of hell your captors subject you to, you don’t cave. You’re still as haughty as ever. Piss them off whenever you can, fighting back with your tongue in a way that your body can’t. Anything to distract you from the unyielding torment and pain. From your thoughts creeping in, from your mortality looming over your shoulders. 

“He won’t come for me,” you bitterly laugh each time your captors taunt you. “He doesn’t care about me. You’ve got the wrong person.” To which they heckle like hyenas, looking at you as if you’ve said the most absurd thing. 

They tell you you are the right person. That it’s only a matter of time before your ‘boyfriend’ comes sniffing you out. You’re more valuable than any treasure, any amount of money. But you always push those words to the back burner. Those empty attempts to give you a flicker of hope.  

He’s subjected you to danger numerous times before. Thrown you to the wolves on several occasions. What makes this time any different?

One thought reigns supreme in your mind each time they torture you. Each time they fill your head with trickery, visions of him, and memories of past misdeeds. 

If he wanted to save you, he would’ve already come. 

The truth hurts, but it’s somehow comforting. Sylus will never find you like this. Never see how far you’ve fallen from grace, breaking apart at the seams, slowly succumbing to the cold and delirium. He’s got more important things to worry about—more important people to occupy his mind. 

You’re disposable. You’ve known this from the start. 

The notion only rooted itself deeper the moment a certain Hunter disturbed the monotony of your lives.

It was merely a matter of time before one of Onychinus’ most revered assassins was wiped out. 

In a way, your captors are doing Sylus a favor, ridding him of your presence so he doesn’t have to lift a finger to do it himself. You’ve always worried he would no longer find a use for you. Knew you couldn’t always be at his side. And now that he has someone else to play his bait, to bat their lashes at him and tug at those little heartstrings, you know you don’t stand a chance. 

Savagely, you laugh, your face turned up at the silvery moonbeams sinking in through the window. And it hurts, your throat dry like it’s been rubbed with sandpaper. Unbidden tears scorch down the sides of your face. Whether they’re heralded in from agony or hysteria, you don’t know. 

Your solitude in this room is as much of a reprieve as it is a cage. Sure, you’re free to collect what little coherent thoughts you have left before your captors are back at it, shocking you to hell and tearing your mind at the seams. But you’re also left with nothing to do but stew in thoughts of your inevitable demise. 

Maybe this is your punishment. All the lives you’ve taken. All the innocents you displaced when you were a fiery-eyed killer fueled by rage and fear. Murdering coldly, killing because you were told—forced—to. 

No matter how far you ran, the past always snuck up on you. But shielded beneath Sylus’ wings, you were able to delay its descent onto your shoulders.  

Sylus had taken you away from it all. Redirected your ire, your revenge, onto the scourge of humanity. No longer were you a gun for hire, taking out high-profile figures because your very life depended on it. No. Instead, you wiped the most vile men from the face of the planet. Pedophiles, rapists, murderers. And you supposed that served as enough repentance for your life before.

Still, no amount of justification will support what you’ve done. What you continue to do. And all for the love of a man who will never see you as more than a rook. A chess piece, lazily dragging across the board for use at his disposal.

The single door to your prison groans open, dispelling the nebula of your thoughts as a blinding stream of light pours in. You wince against its brilliance, your bruised lips canting up in a sardonic smile. 

Once the new presence clears the entryway, a shock of white greets you. And it’s followed by a wash of scarlet, moving through the bleariness. You huff a painful laugh as the figure nears you, agony swelling in your chest. This trick again. Weren’t they getting bored of using it?

Finding your voice, you grit out, “You’ve tried this one already. It’s getting old. Gonna have to do better than that.”

But your tormenter doesn’t err in their steps. Instead, they hasten their approach until the warmth they carry wades over your skin. And through the dank scent of your entrapment, you make out familiar notes of amber and sandalwood. As convincing as the illusions have been lately, they’ve never smelled this vivid before.

Searing hands curve around your cheeks. Angle your head back until your vision fills with red. Red eyes nestled beneath brows knotted with anguish. Pink lips parted with the effort of breathing. As you fully take in your tormenter’s harrowed features, you slowly realize that maybe you’re not hallucinating this time. And a thick film of tears washes over your good eye, the world blurring and bending.

“You’re getting better at this,” you sob-slash-laugh, still disbelieving. There’s no way he could be the real thing. There’s just—

—no way. Could he? Could it…

Suddenly, the metal chains of your shackles rattle and loosen. And you’re freefalling, loose-limbed and weightless, heading for the ground along with your restraints. But a pair of virile arms spread like wings beneath you, cradling you against a rigid chest, and a ferocious heart beats a war cadence beneath your cheek as you press further into it. 

Weakened by your time in captivity, you feel something prodding around inside your head. Something warm and feather-light creeps through the folds of your mind, chasing away the darkness. It’s a voice—an inherently masculine voice reverberating in your head, working like a soothing balm over your psyche.

I’ve got you, it soothes, dulling the ache in your bones, the maelstrom in your head. And its familiarity is enough to bring a smile to your lips. More tears pour in rivulets down your cheeks, and you cling to the silk of his shirt, unconsciousness pulling you under. He came for you. He really—he actually—

—came.

And as you succumb to fatigue, hypothermia, and hunger, two sentences pierce through the darkness like a lighthouse beaconing through the storm.

“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.”

[uncharted-constellations]

~You were just a kid too, huh~

Again, I refuse to make adult mm link edgy sorry.

[teapetal44]

TW: ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE

“He wants to air this dirty laundry to the world does he…? Dabi, you fiend…you’ve been waiting for this moment…when they couldn’t prevent mass destruction…and faith in heroes is wavering.” - chapter 292

I truly, wholeheartedly, believe that MHA as a story upholds the myth of the perfect victim. I do not want to discuss if Horikoshi did that on purpose, or subconsciously because of inner bias – I find no meaning in doing so. For me the execution of an idea, in the grand scheme of the narrative, holds more value than the intention of the author. I’ve also had my fair share of people infantilizing Asian authors in the anime community for their poor writing decisions for one lifetime. It’s patronizing to both the author and the people reading it. Whether or not Horikoshi intended for his themes of abuse to paint the picture they did does not matter, because that’s how it reads as.

MHA puts victims of abuse in narrow boxes and softly dictates what’s an acceptable reaction to said abuse. Victims are continuously walking a tightrope between being deserving of compassion and sympathy and being unredeemable monsters who are too far gone and are only good for martyrdom after being put down.  

Eri fits the clean cut depiction of abuse victims that media usually gears towards. She is untouched by the cruelty around her - she preserves her innocence and kindness. She isn't assertive, but rather meek and passive. She doesn't fight back with force. And when offered help, she is receptive to it. That is not to say that Eri's depiction doesn't have a place in fiction, or that her portrayal can't be representative of the experiences of some - as we all deal with trauma and the inhumanity people throw at us differently. We see the same thing in the portrayal of Fuyumi, who shares many of the qualities discussed above. The same thing applies to her - i personally love the idea of all the siblings having different reaction to their childhood trauma and abuse. It shows that victims are not some type of monolith.

But the narrative treats the "forgiving" or "receptive to help/support" victims of abuse with more grace and with much more kindness. if you are willing to forgive, or the very least be quietly tolerant, the story grants you a happy ending. Forgiveness isn't a bad thing, it is an individual choice - but an abuse victim shouldn't have to do it for them to have a happy ending.

In a vacuum Eri and Fuyumi's character arcs and depictions of abuse are good but it becomes a problem when that's the only experience and type of victim we ever hold in high value or recognize as valid and deserving of compassion. Which the story reinforces.

Touya and Tenko's backstories aren't pretty nor comfortable or easy to sit through. Their responses to abuse aren't either. Reactive abuse is very much real.

[pleaseinsertwittyurl]

There are always 2 sides.

The discourse around Louis and Lestat being a victim and abuser and nothing more drives me insane.

Something i don't think enough people remember is that the very same reason the fight began in 1×05 (lestat grabbing claudia by the throat when she tries to "take louis away") we see Louis himself do to her in 1×07 when she tries to get Louis to burn Lestat.

They BOTH would harm her rather than live in a world without the other. They are both guilty of abusing her and each other.

There is an implication that a good deal of time passed between Louis and Lestat meeting and the church. Louis expresses that he shares himself with Lestat in a way he only had with Paul. I would assume that goes both ways, to a degree. We know Louis knows at least enough about Nicki to discourage Claudia poking that wound. He also clearly knows that the threat of leaving is his most powerful weapon against Lestat.

Mental abuse is abuse. And Louis abused Lestat mentally for years. Shaming him, ridiculing him, shutting him out, manipulating him into making Claudia (a traumatic moment for him, whether Louis understands the depths of it or not) by promising to give him what he's being denying him, promising to never put him through what he fears the most.

Louis admits to purposely making Lestat suffer. He admits he was warned that Claudia would suffer and he wanted her anyway because he needed to feel redeemed. He is not innocent. He is not a trapped, weak victim. He made choices to hurt both Lestat and Claudia time and time again.

Does this justify Lestat's actions in 1×05? Obviously not. But we now know Louis was not willing to stop the fight. He taunted Lestat the same way he taunted the Alderman. He was unleashing years of frustrations just as Lestat was. His priority was not to protect Claudia, it was to hurt Lestat, consequences be damned.

I hate the drop scene as much as the next person and Lestat has admitted he will never earn forgiveness for what he did. But if you view Louis as some squeaky clean victim who was manipulated, trapped, and abused by Lestat you are missing so much of what this show is conveying.

We will always tend to paint ourselves as the hero of our own story. It is hard to accept your faults or that you hurt people you love. It is much easier to shift that blame on to someone else, to frame them as the villian. But life is not usually that black and white. Claudia had harsh words for them both in her diary, even before they got to Europe, for a reason. They both made hurtful mistakes with her, both treated her like a pawn in their relationship instead of a person, both harmed her, took away her choice, never prioritized her.

That is the great tragedy. That she never had a choice and was not allowed to be her own person. And in the end, they both are responsible for her misery and her death. That's what makes the reunion scene so important. They have been grieving her and carrying that guilt alone, all the while longing for the comfort of the other for 70+ years. Louis has found clarity in his memories, he has accepted his role in their suffering, he has seen Lestat's perspective more fully. Lestat is broken, totally consumed with that guilt and grief. Both know that although they cannot change what they've done, they can forgive the other, even if they can't forgive themselves. They can love each other despite everything they've done to one another because they cannot stop loving each other. But now they can try to rebuild that love from the rubble.

[cozmo-system]

Reminder for pedos: CP is a crime, even drawn CP. If you make it, its a federal felony. Posess it? Another federal felony. Send it to someone else? Another federal felony. Have fun with 5-20 yrs in prison as a first time offender.

(we will go off the usa law since thats where we live)

first off, its not “cp” calling it porn implies consent which children cant do, its CSEM. second, you cannot exploit a fictional character. if the drawing is of a real life child then you have a case, not if its Deku from My Hero Academia.

and third, pedophilia doesn’t mean you’re going to abuse a child, just that you have a paraphilia and should get the proper treatment if you’re struggling

[kizzer55555]

The Tournament

Trigger Warning for Violence

So you know how Danny is portrayed as the ghost king automatically after Pariah is defeated? What if there was more too it. Let’s say that Danny has joined a new hero team and is having fun and then there is some kind of ripple in the infinite realms that all magic users can feel. A tournament is being held to choose the new king. The reason it wasn’t held immediately upon Pariah’s defeat is because it took some time to get into contact with all the participants. Anyone eligible can attend the tournament. This includes those with royal blood, other ancients, anyone who meets a certain power level, anyone that have their own kingdom and people to rule over, or those who faught and sealed Pariah in the first place. Aka, Danny and Vlad. So Danny gets an invite to the tournament.

Now this can go two ways. One is that those ‘invited’ are obligated to attend. Like their core physically hurts if they try to refuse. And the tournament is dangerous. Creatures and demons and eldritch horrors from all over the infinite realms are attending.

Second option. The tournament is optional because it is very cut throat and usually a battle to the death (or in this case, until someone’s core is shattered) and with ghosts being able to survive a lot, the battles often end with missing limbs, spines ripped out, impailment, decapitation, and disembowelment to name a few. So many refuse to participate, not wanting to risk ceasing to exist. The problem though is that a dangerous person is participating (could be Vlad, could be another demonic villain of the JL) and unless they want this person to gain unlimited power through the crown and ring plus an army of undead, Danny has to participate. Or the world is doomed. And each time Danny goes through a trial or battle, (because there could be both.) he returns to the hero group with injures that would have killed a normal person. Practically drenched in his own ecto blood. (That’s if the heroes weren’t forced to watch their friend mid battle, unable to interfere. Man. That would suck if they had to watch his spine get ripped out or something. The screams alone. Maybe split the group so Danny can only bring a certain number of ‘guests’ and they rotate who goes?) And like, imagine what kind of conversation Danny would have. His team panicking about the impending threat of the new ghost king and Dany having to reveal that he is eligible to participate (if some outside force doesn’t reveal it for him) and being forced to compete in a tournament where you either die, or become a murderer.

[voltaical-art]

urghh im just gonna post this… some Bishop lore…

[mayadoesfandomstuff]

Now with reading summaries of the podcast episode and watching some of the clips, it genuinely triggers my anxiety hearing about how Dream treated his friends and especially those who are more vulnerable than him (like Tommy being a teenager), especially since I experienced the same kind of thing with one of my ex toxic friend from about last year this time and it's so unnerving.

Tommy saying that he tried settling things privately, keeps getting empty apologies, and then for Dream to just keep doing what he was doing without changing anything really brought me back to my own conversations where I would basically almost beg her to reflect on how she's hurt me and her apologizing with a "I'm sorry you felt that way." and then continuing on to act the same way.

Tommy and Jack talking about how it was almost like he didn't understood what he did was wrong and it taking so much to explain things to him and in the end the whole thing not clicking, reminded me of long conversations I had with her trying to make her understand why she was being hurtful and still, at the end of it, still not agreeing with me on why her words were hurtful to a mutual friend.

Tommy questioning whether or not he's accurate on how badly dream treats him and only having very few people to vent to really hit hard and it brought me back to when I could only talk about how bad my ex friend was to me to only one person who wasn't trying to play devil's advocate for her. Someone who was also hurt and has also publicly expressed her disdain for her to the rest of the friend group and we honestly felt like conspiracy theorists half the time who couldn't speak about this publicly or outside our most inner circles (i.e. just us and maybe my family members).

There's so much of this that they talked about that I'm seeing disturbing parallels to me and that relationship and it does make me wonder if it was just a toxic friendship or outright emotional abuse or both or am I crazy or whatever because it's not like we had a large age gap and the only thing she may have over me was that she was physically abled while I was housebound and nearly isolated except with my family and online conversations with our same mutual friends and maybe she was lighter skinned and was actively colorist against me and my other friend that she also hurt but man, this is really making me think.

My heart goes out for Tommy and I do hope that he closes this chapter of his life and finds success in his new ventures and hoping that he never has to interact with Dream or his associates again.

[hearts401]

Tessa fucks me up dude can I just talk about her for a sec? Yeah? Yeah.

She loved those drones. She loved them because they were what she had. She felt sympathy for them when nobody else did. And I like to think there was a little bit of loneliness motivating her as well.

Her mother hated her. She was nothing to her. When her mother scolded her by saying "seems you still can't follow simple orders" her respone was "No, no no! Please!" BEGGING. Begging her mother to believe in her and be kind to her. She got chained up in her room (multiple times btw. At leas tthats implied. the hand she winced at and rubbed is the same hand the chain was on, which means shed be chained up long enough for it to rub her skin painfully. long enough to leave lasting pain.)

She is very connected to these drones, to the point where she kept all the error drones aroud because she LOVED them. She spent time digging them up. HELL SHE TOOK A FAMILY PHOTO WITH THEM DUDE...

Even when Cyn was creepy and scary, she kept her around. She'd rather lock Cyn up than get rid of her. and when n points it out, shes apologetic and hesitant. But we know WHY she did that. Even if it was kind of a sucky move, it was because she didnt wanna have to throw cyn out. and in the end that killed her.

Also she knows J well enough to know what sets her off (enough to. bite the shit out of a chain). She knows them. and she loves them.

I wish we'd gotten to know more about her an N. why is he so clearly her favorite? but thats not relevant ig

also her saying "I've only ever yakked to robots, J!" She has NO human friends. she has nobody to support her other than these robots. these robots who get treated like garbage by her family.

and then she has to watch these robots turn on her. Not just THESE ROBOTS but the three that she loved most. (also im going off what wouldve happened in ep 5 WITHOUT uzi, where n doesnt get out of the swamp, and nobody goes down to the basement)

V first, then Cyn, then J. And we KNOW she loved these three+N especially bc she took a family photo w them, interacted with them more often, and generally just seemed much closer with them.

and what does she get for it? killed. And also its implied by this screenshot that she wasnt ACTUALLY killed by cyn right then

(the scientists, the sword beside her, the footprints, the way shes sitting against the wall, the expression she has. she totally just saw all that shit)

and she cant have been skyn bc the scientists wouldve known. the skinsuit wasnt exactly. hm. pretty.

which means she DID see her whole family+more slaughtered in front of her while she was powerless to stop it. She DID see J violently kill everyone around her. She DID see Cyn kill everyone. And she just has to. Deal with that. And despite all her efforts, the solver took over and cyn killed her. (im assuming tessa died somewhere around when n's mineshaft flashback was like i mentioned b4)

and all the while she was convinced shed lose N, id assume. based on the state of the other drone out there.

And honestly, i think what she got was worse.

also i am team "N knew Tessa wasn't the same Tessa he knew back on Earth"

The way he looked at her, and the way he was suspicious of her. He knew HIS Tessa would never treat a drone like this. Cyn has been known to have relatively shitty recreations of people at times (like Thad in episode two) But even so there was no way he could believe it was someone else (like. who would it be? he saw her blood he heard her voice like...) which is why he was so stressed after killing her (when he leaned on his sword and was breathing heavy, yk?)

he loved her and she loved him and now shes dead. just like everyone else he loved.

this isnt about n but like. idk if tessa could see him now i think shed cry. she loved him and all of them