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#tw for major self loathing
nomsfaultau · 6 months
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This one's just for me y'all imma be real
This is a pointless character analysis essay of chapter 33 of Fault bc I realized I had a lot of thoughts that would be difficult to fully explore via the limited pov of the characters. Because frankly Tubbo lacks the emotional maturity to take a step back and see the fullness of the picture, especially as it’s their warped mental health that I wish to examine. 
The angle I’ll be exploring is this: Tubbo neglects their injuries as an act of punitive self-harm born from guilt. 
Cw: physical/emotional self-harm via neglect, examination of guilt, ableist logic, religious mention. Pure angst bby. 
A few important details so this isn’t 100% incomprehensible:
Tubbo is a staunch pacifist.
Tubbo technically murdered an OC named Rosalind by adding her to their hive mind.
Tubbo lost their legs thanks to The Blade and is in massive amounts of pain that they cope with by ignoring it. 
Tubbo is a flawed character and obviously has a lot of incorrect ideas that should not be conflated with the author’s. I'd particularly like to stress this on the 'disability as punishment' angle, as significant time will be spent dismantling that but not within this essay as this is strictly an identification of Tubbos' flawed mindset and not a discussion on fixing it.
The basis for chapter 33 is essentially a microcosm of Tubbos’ increasingly maladaptive responses to pain. Chiefly, repressing pain and verbally lashing out at Philza with arguable justification, culminating in contemplating destroying their hand (forcing Rhodes to stop them) before the group realizes their broken legs have healed incorrectly in an irreversible fashion. When writing, the original question was ‘why is Tubbo acting like this?’ with a succinct answer of ‘pain’. But when reviewing it I came to another question: why did Tubbo choose to cope with the pain by ignoring it? The original answer was in their history of dissociation and fear of being weak around dangerous people. But I think that’s only the part Tubbo is aware of because on re-examination I found it ran far deeper. 
It all comes back to guilt. Surprise surprise a fic named Fault deals heavily with guilt. Essentially, Tubbo subconsciously views their legs being ripped apart as justice for Tubbo ripping Rosalind apart. The pain then is deserved. They choose to accept the pain and try to push past it even as it grows worse due to neglect. This results in Tubbo not taking the proper steps to heal, creating extreme medical complications. 
A large contributing factor comes from the backgrounds of hive members in Tubbos’ system. Rhodes, a lawyer, acted for decades as the hand of the punitive system, which emphasizes punishment as the correct treatment to deter future crimes. And then with Rosalind’s Catholic upbringing (which is mostly implied, but that’s my authorial intent), there’s that good old religious guilt, particularly with the concept of misfortune being a divine retribution for sin. Combined, The Blade disabling Tubbo becomes an act of (the blood) god to punish Tubbo for their crime, which they must accept in order to ensure they don’t ever do it again. To properly take care of themselves would get in the way of their deserved damnation. 
Which…obviously big yikes on many levels that hopefully I don't need to explain.
In the sense of a DID system which the hive mind resembles (in certain aspects), Tubbo takes on the role of the persecutor as a way to punish themselves for (arguably) murdering someone. They blame their self-loathing on Rosalind because on some level they recognize it to be a bad thing, but regard it as deserved if it’s from her, further fueling their guilt and justification of their self-harm. In actuality, their ‘penance’ is actively hurting the victim as well as themselves.
Additionally, commenter MossyWizard brought up dsmp!Tubbo’s self dehumanization. And I think there could very easily be a reading for that here. Fault!Tubbo has a problem of dehumanizing people. This can be partly attributed to the Foundation training that Rosalind had. Tubbo doesn’t have generalized dehumanization of anomalies, since they are one and that would include people they like (ie Tommy). Instead, it combines with their sense of morality and results in them dehumanizing people they deem ‘evil’ such as Philza or The Blade. Part of chapter 33 deals heavily with Tubbo refusing to acknowledge Philza’s personhood under the claim that he doesn’t experience empathy (abundantly untrue, and also empathy is not the marker of someone’s humanity nor their capacity for kindness). 
An excerpt that I believe highlights a compounding issue in Tubbos’ philosophies: [“You’re filled with a lot of anger, Tubbo,” [Philza] said quietly. / “No. We’re not angry; we’re a nice person.” / …“Please don’t misunderstand me, I do not condemn anger.” / “Maybe you should.”]
Tubbo shies away from emotions deemed negative (anger, fear), twisting them into something they view as positive (righteousness). It’s possible Tubbo is terrified of acknowledging their anger because they heavily associate anger with Phil, given he’s a god of wrath. The logic line is thus 1. bad emotions = bad person and 2. bad person = not a person. Tubbo is then terrified of being a bad person while having to exist under their current morality framework. 
Notably, Guilt is exempt from being deemed as a ‘bad’ emotion due to it being an aspect of empathy, which falls in line with Tubbos’ concept of empathy being a component of humanity. Tubbo (incorrectly) assumes that Philza and The Blade do not feel guilt, and so feeding their guilt becomes almost proof of them being good and thus still a person. 
In conclusion, Tubbo has a lot to unpack before they can begin to heal. Motto of Fault really. Tldr; Tubbo neglects their health due to perceiving their injuries as deserved and wallows in guilt as a desperate response to maintain their perceived status as a good person (and thus a person at all). This gels rather nicely with Tommy’s perception of punishment, and it is this foil that will eventually pull Tubbo out of their spiral and have a healthier relationship with guilt, beginning their shift away from punitive to restorative justice. Thus concludes my TED talk. As you can tell the autism won today.
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zukkaoru · 2 years
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going through some of my old poetry google docs and. why did i write a h.igh s.chool m.usical fic in the same doc as internalized homophobia and religious guilt are making me think i deserve to die poems
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shouldn’t have told my mom I self harm, she took my fucking scissors away from me and now I can’t do it
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shallyouobeyme · 6 months
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Rise
Obey Me - Yandere!Brothers x Reader (GN); Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (GN)
Summary: Your death had not been an unexpected one - at least for the seven reasons behind it - what had been unexpected was what happened afterwards. How far are the residents of hell willing to go to get you back?
! Minors Do Not Interact !
TW: Major Character Death, Death of a relative (mentioned), Yandere!brothers can be interpreted either as platonic or romantic, poison, murder, Manipulation, blackmailing, non-consensual kissing, angst generally, I do not condone this - this is all just fiction
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Everything about your death had been planned prior, not a single detail was unaccounted for. At least for the ones behind it. You yourself had no idea that you were eating your last meal one Friday evening - it had been Lucifer's turn to cook and he made one of your favourites - and you were enjoying dinner with all the brothers. Quite honestly, you should have known something was afoot simply by the fact that all of them were on their best behaviour, no fighting, no cursing - the literal and the magical kind - and even Levi was acting sociable, without a handheld console anywhere in sight. Belphegor was wide awake (at least for his standards), Beelzebub was eating with relative moderation, Mammon wasn't bragging about any of his new purchases, Satan was calm as he could be, and Asmodeus had his complete attention on you, but not in his typical flirty way. It was like they were all trying to savour the moment.
Lucifer seemed to be the same as always, but you knew him too well and knew how to look beyond his shell. He was sad, somehow, and you would have guessed this sense of self-loathing that his pride usually didn't allow, but that always was just below the surface was bubbling up. Why, you didn't know, but you figured you'd ask him after dinner when you had some alone time. When you were finished eating, Mammon jumped up exclaiming that he'd do the cleaning today and you knew one of the brothers would ask what he was trying to even out now, which scheme of his he needed to repent for before it had actually come out. Not a word was said though. That was the moment when you became slightly suspicious, but sadly not suspicious enough - not that there was anything for you to change at that point. The deed had already been done.
A yawn straight out of your mouth pulled you away from your suspicions. You were really tired all of a sudden. The day must have been more exhausting than you had thought. 'Oh well', you thought as your eyelids slowly became heavier, 'you had time to ask Lucifer about what was going on tomorrow, after all, it was the weekend and you had had all the time in the world'. 'All the time in the world', oh how silly that phrase now sounded. You said goodbye to the brothers, giving each of them a small kiss on their cheek as it had established itself in your routine before you turned to leave for your room. 'MC', Lucifer had called after you as if wanting you to stop, but when you turned around to him, he seemingly had discarded whatever it was he had wanted, instead telling you to sleep well.
And you did sleep well, for about two hours and twenty-seven minutes. Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, your heart beat for the last time, and then your body grew cold and stiff and lifeless. Death had come for you at last. A peaceful death, that the brothers knew for sure because as they all sat waiting in the dimly lit living room, they only felt a slight ache and a sense of finality as their bonds broke apart. It was regretful that they had to these measures and they were well aware that for the rest of their eternal lives, they'd mourn their actions - but what had to be done was done, this was the only way. The one way that would mean that you would spend eternity with them.
Their plan had first started being formulated when you had gotten news of a relative of yours dying - they had been old and sick and their death had not been an unexpected one. The brothers had decided they'd be there to help you mourn and cheer you up, but they found that while you felt the pain of your loss you were actually relieved, knowing that your relative now didn't have to suffer anymore, especially since they had made peace with their end already. It was what you said when Levi had wondered how you could be so nonchalant about death that kickstarted it all. 'We all die at the end, some sooner, some later - death is a part of life and I find that fleeing from it is impossible so I might as well embrace life for the short time it blesses me.'
They had always known that you'd die one day - they knew you were mortal, but still, knowing that you knew that you would, made this more real. It meant that it was something that would happen in the near future (for them at least) and after they had a long talk where all of them agreed that they could not, would not, live without you anymore they decided that the only way for you to be with them forever was to make you like them, to have you be a demon. That way you'd be safe in the Devildom - not that they'd stop protecting you - and you'd be bound to them for eternity, just like the pacts had bound them to you. But for a mortal to become a human, they had to die first.
Lucifer had cleared things with Diavolo - made him promise that once you died and came to hell, he'd make you into a demon (decidedly not mentioning that your death might happen sooner than the prince might expect) - and Satan took care of a poison that would make you die peacefully and painlessly in your sleep. From then on everything would be simple, your soul would come down to hell, that much was sure, you had made pacts with not one, not two, but all seven of the lords of hell, so there wasn't a way in the world that you'd end up in heaven.
That's what they had been so very sure of, but they didn't realize just how pure you were, how you had been able to keep your soul shining and clean even while surrounded by the worst of the worst, how you hadn't indulged in sin even while being surrounded by it. It might have been your celestial heritage or just your heart of goodness, but it seems the great father had his eyes on you and decided to give you another chance after your death. A new life as an angel - the same soul just elevated into a high, celestial position, and without memories about your mortal life. The brothers had no idea of your new angelic self, just mulling over the fact of how long it was taking you to make the track to hell, worrying that you might have been trapped in the mortal realm with unfinished business. It was Simeon who cleared it up for them, he had been in Celestia with Luke while they had ended your life, so when he appeared in the mansion, face white as a sheet and eyes filled with sadness, exclaiming that you were in Celestia now, that you had no memories, asking the brothers what had happened to you, why they hadn't been informed of your untimely demise. They improvised, exclaiming that you had died of some natural causes that unsuspectedly came with a mortal like you spending so much time in the Devildom, that they were in deep mourning and hadn't even gotten to contact your family yet. Simeon - too goodhearted for his own good - believed them, telling them that he'd mourn with them, but it was what he said before he left again that stuck in their mind: He'd take good care of your soul in Celestia.
No, they wouldn't let this happen. They'd do whatever they had to, whatever it took, to have you back in their midst again. A new plan formed, this one more destructive and with much more dire consequences, but they did not care anymore. Lucifer was again the one to get Diavolo's help but this time he was straightforward about it - he knew that he'd act on it with or without the prince's help. It was a surprise how quickly Diavolo agreed and how eager he was to help, it was a sign of his own ulterior motives, but having Diavolo on their side was the biggest trump card they could gain so Lucifer decided to keep that to himself.
Their plan would surely lead to another century, if not more, of animosities between the realms. It might even lead to another Celestial war, but the brothers were more than prepared to fight their former brethren if it was just to have you in their reach again. And so it was enacted ruthlessly and without hesitation. The seven of them along with Diavolo could easily summon an angel, even one as protected and new as you, and so when you arrived in the middle of their circle they were all too ready to embrace you tight enough to make sure you could never escape, the would have clipped your beautiful white wings - the same that Lillith had sprouted out of her back when she was alive and celestial - and would have buried your halo below the deepest ditch in the deepest sea, but they knew that that was not the end goal of their plan. Instead, Diavolo made you an offer. To join him. To become one of the rulers of hell, the eighth lord/lady of hell, and get a power beyond a simple angel's imagination. Of course, you declined, no self-respecting angel without any reason would agree to that, after all, angels were made, born, with the knowledge that the inhabitants of the Devildom were evil, the enemy.
Again, the brothers had expected you to decline, but they wanted to have at least offered it to you under these circumstances. They would get what they wanted one way or another though and so after a simple snap of Diavolo's fingers, Barbatos entered the room, carrying in his hand a small angel. He was holding him with his hand around his neck from behind and Luke was either unconscious or... you didn't want to think about what the or was. Of course, he was just sleeping from a potion in the cookies he had made with Barbatos earlier, during the baking session they had used to lure him down to the Devildom to work as their blackmail.
The ultimatum was clear. Agree, become one of them, and Luke would go free, or decline, go back to Celestia with the knowledge that the young angel, one of Michaels's very own pupils, had died while you could have stopped it. Had you retained your memories from your mortal life, you might have believed that they wouldn't have dared to hurt Luke, but even then you would have been wrong because there was nothing that was too far in their attempt to regain you by their side.
The goodness that had brought you into this situation in the first place was now also the reason for your decision. No way could you live with yourself knowing that you could've stopped Luke's death. And so you held out to shake Diavolo's hand, only for him to pull you towards him and kiss you deeply. The kiss was unexpected, but it turned out to be a welcomed distraction from the burning that started in your midst and widened out until it had reached every single part of your body. Your wings felt like they were made of pure fire as the feathers that were white as snow before turned into an ashen grey. The pain was almost as bad as the one in your temples where horns came out and curled backwards until they were horizontal to your head with a slight angle.
When the kiss - and the transformation - had ended the complete morph of your body took its toll as you fell right into Diavolo's arms. At that point Diavolo saw himself faced with a choice, he was so tempted to just take you with him - make you his partner like he knew you would one day be the moment he had given you your first kiss, now was the perfect chance, you were a demon like him now - but the brothers would surely wreak havoc up him and his kingdom if he did and he had more than enough time after all. People didn't expect him to be a patient man given his childish demeanour, but for you he was willing to wait decades, if not centuries, knowing that once he had you, he'd have you forever by his side. For now, he'd let the brothers take you home, coddle and care for you while they searched for ways to bring your memories back. They'd surely have their work cut out for them, after all - as Barbatos had explained after your transformation - as a result of a mix of celestial blood and the pacts you had with them during your time as a mortal, you were now the ultimate sin, an amalgamation of all of them: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, hunger and sloth.
A/N: My thirteenth entry into Yandere Writetober - based on the result of a poll I held - I hope you all liked this slightly longer and more experimentally written Friday the 13 'special'. If you did, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Look forward to tomorrow's entry 'castle'
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azaracyy · 2 months
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to the next stage of our adventure! digimon survive week 2024 day 7: post-game / future personal thoughts under the cut - less about the artwork and more about shuuji and lopmon themselves. a long rambling containing major spoilers and heavy topics. will cause whiplash. proceed with caution.
other than the fact this may be boring and long-winded, cw and tw: there will be mentions of self-harm and suicide. if these topics make you uncomfortable, please step back. if you're sure, then alright. i'm aware this is a weird place to ramble about shuuji and lopmon considering the notorious highlight of their story would match the themes of day 5 (villains) and day 6 (dark & loss) better. unfortunately (ironically?) i never planned to feature them for those days, so... pretty sure i'm not the only one feeling this, but when i discovered that a good part of the fandom seems to loathe shuuji with utmost passion, even after they claimed to have completed the game, i was confused. the way his death happened and (understanding) the cause made me uncomfortable for a while, but never drove me to the point of hate... once i recovered from the initial shock, what i felt towards him was more pity, then respect (on truthful route). i feel shuuji should have been one of the most appreciated characters in survive. yet it was the opposite that happened. (between you and me though, knowing there was this discourse with the fact digimon survive is a visual novel, i'm not that surprised it turned out this way...) from my point of view, lopmon evolving into wendimon then killing shuuji symbolizes suicide, the act of taking one's own life. it was the climax of shuuji's mental breakdown, leading him to basically self-destruct, causing damage to everyone around him and ultimately himself. lopmon evolved, just like he hoped. but failed to do it like other kemonogami partners (maintaining control of themselves and fending off enemies). the next and final outcome was death, through his own partner actually eating him alive too. it reminds me how when someone thought they have prepared well for something important yet it failed spectacularly, the devastation and frustration would eat them in the same way from inside. and they probably would for one second think, "i'm better off dead". the more i pondered about it, the more it hit home, so of course, the last thing i could do is hate him, when his struggles sound similar to my own - having to rely on consistent achievements to prove your value, to feel you are worth living and not a waste of resources. the part where shuuji went all abusive on lopmon felt like the equivalent of pushing yourself to the extreme to reach your goal, to the point of neglecting your own needs. it's like a student so absorbed in their study, sacrificing food and sleep, until their body eventually snaps and shuts down for good (...this in fact happened to one of the students at my previous workplace. she was in her last year of high school. life was just about to truly start for her when her classmate informed us of her sudden death). even in truthful route where shuuji and lopmon survive that point, things aren't immediately nice and easy for him. you can see that he still has self-doubts, and what i think is impostor's syndrome. he could be making a great contribution to the team and still put himself down for having done "nothing". i have found it interesting that artists and writers tend to be especially fond of shuuji. so perhaps it's not just the matter of one's upbringing - whether you were raised in a harsh, competitive environment and/or with family with (unreasonably) high standards so you can relate more easily to him - but also whether one can see just what every struggle shuuji and lopmon went through symbolizes shuuji's mental state. out of all survive characters, i think shuuji and lopmon pulled off this thing called "surviving" the hardest, no joke. which is why i almost always gravitate to drawing them happy because that's what they deserve :') after all this, what i also would like to say is, it's okay if a character makes you uncomfortable. it's okay if you hate a character. but never, ever bring down the character to people who like them or even consider them their favorite or comfort character. if you must, do it in your own space and only with like-minded people.
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yandere best friend pt3
tw; infantalization, yelling, violence, self harm, feels bad because comparison is the thief of joy, life being unfair
ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3
yea im on a roll haha i just finished part 2 and now i moved onto part 3, as u can see i was projecting here with the leg situation
anyways its pretty short and as usual, no proofreading
enjoay
You don't know how he's doing right now. Time passes so fast that its been four years since that haunting call from your friend. You finished your masters degree and now you're deeper in debt than ever. You're taking on three jobs unrelated to your qualifications and running on no sleep, just like how your friend did when he was working towards his biggest goal.
Well, maybe you lied. You knew how he's doing, because his stupid restaurant name is ubiquitous.
It's strange, unfair and confusing how he managed to turn his restaurant into a multimillion corporation this fast. It's now a famous brand with multiple branches across the globe, it has expanded into selling frozen products in supermarkets everywhere. It's still growing too, more and more people are investing in his empire, making him richer and richer and making you green with fucking envy.
People who invest in stocks bring up his brand pretty often, saying that it's worth to invest a couple thousand dollars in it because its in some sort of top 500 index. You weren't really interested in that because you don't even have a couple thousand dollars to spare in the first place.
Your friend seem to mostly stay out of the limelight, making him more of a faceless founder. It's rare to find interviews with him, even if you did, he would always give vague, generic answers to the questions. He would focus more on promoting his products than anything else, he's neither humble or arrogant... but he's just like a robot made only to advertise whatever it's selling and make as much sales as it can.
The masses would very much prefer to pay attention to the celebrity ambassadors the marketing department hired.
Personal information about your friend was scarce, so far you knew that he went ahead and got himself a diploma in culinary arts and another diploma in Food Science and Technology in the last four years. No doubt, to improve the credibility of his company and in hopes of having more customers flock in.
You felt... bad. Took the conventional, the more socially accepted route of studying to one of the highest degrees, but your friend who started off with only a high school diploma and an iron will was so much more successful than you in life.
Perhaps it's simply the human condition to compare ourselves to wildly different lives. Every time you check the news about your friend, it's always something about his company achieving another award for delicious tasting food, well known events involving major public figures or the highly anticipated release of a new product.
You don't come across pictures with your friend in it, but when you do, it's always a picture of him talking to an important figure in a lavish setting, or having the fanciest dinner you have ever seen with people in formal clothes. He looked amazing in every one of it, he was so put together that it looks unreal. Well, seeing that he can afford the best treatments the world has to offer, it doesn't come off as a huge surprise.
And that is soul crushing, you wish to be him. And you forgot the hardships he went through. And you became bitter. And resentful of him. And resentful towards yourself. And-
Oh, your break is up. Time to continue your self loathing inner monologue while dealing with snooty customers. All the while, forgetting that your friend also has to deal with mood and energy vampires everyday.
As if things couldn't get anymore worse, you fucked up your legs. Well, not you. But some spoiled brat with a speedy sports car slammed onto you while you were lawfully using the zebra crossing. Their daddy was loaded and had the right connections, so the person who took your legs out walked away scot-free. You were left to clean up the mess yourself.
Luckily, it's not the worst thing your legs can take. You'll still be able to walk, but it will take ages to heal and might as well amputate them to pay for the damn bill. Throw in a kidney or two and you might just pay half of it off. So, you'll be wheelchair ridden until further notice.
You moved back into your parents' home, the same country where you and your friend first met. As much as you hate depending on others, you need your parents help. You are financially ruined and you can't exactly find a job that's kind to people with your disability. Or to people with any disability, in fact.
Word spreads so fucking fast. Your friend made a beeline to your parents house as soon as one of his private eyes reported that you're back home.
He was in a meeting with the board of directors managing one of his numerous subsidiary companies. It baffled everyone in the room when your friend showed interest in something other than profits and company growth. It was thought that he has no soul, no loved ones and no sentience. He was just a massive piece of code programmed to make as much money as possible at all cost.
Seeing that he experienced such a strong emotion upon hearing your arrival, that he had to adjourn a meeting, was so jarring.
It made him seem... human.
You were fast asleep. Exhausted from what the world has pelted at you and weak from all the pain. Your parents invited your friend in as he was extremely excited and happy that you're back, oblivious to the fact that you're in this state. He didn't bother listening to the full report his private eye was about to give him.
As soon as he entered your room, his smile fell upon seeing your crippled state. You were unconscious, if you weren't, you would probably die from mortification... your successful childhood best friend, seeing very unsuccessful you. An old laptop sits uncomfortably on your belly, yet another job rejection letter was shown on the screen.
Your friend was speechless. He could already hear the growing storm of regret, self hatred, anguish, anger, sadness brewing inside him, it was muffled, but its getting increasingly clearer and louder.
His trembling hands gently stroked your casts as tears threaten to fall from his eyes.
What happened? He whispered, it was loud enough for your parents to hear. Hence, they began explaining.
The name of the person who hit you with their car was all he needed to know. He is going to take care of it. Everything else bounced off his head as his eyes slowly travelled to your hands, he took one of them into his larger ones. He massaged them with utmost love and longing.
It's rough. It's calloused. It's scarred. It's everything that he never ever want your hands to be.
You groggily woke up, using your free hand to rub your eyes. You paused when you saw your friend by your bedside, silently staring at your hand in his. Tears rolling down his cheek and dripping onto the collar of his very expensive jacket.
He failed. He may have tried his best to stop it from happening, but he ultimately failed. You went through more or less, what he went through.
He shouldn't have left you alone, he shouldn't have trusted that you won't suffer like he did. He should have intervened, he should have bought that plane ticket instead, He shouldn't have respected your boundaries that day, he should have come to you regardless.
You have proven that you are incapable to take care of yourself. No more mistakes, no more neglect, you need him now more than ever. He is going to make things right and you will have no say in anything anymore. You will depend on him and he will make sure of it.
As soon as his eyes met yours, he lost it. He broke down sobbing in his hands. The weight of his failure is crushing him to pieces, how could he be so fucking stupid? Obviously, you needed him despite receiving that scathing text message four years ago. You were so young, so naïve, so inexperienced and oblivious to the cruel, cruel world around you. Of course, you thought you would do okay. You haven't seen the world at its' worst like he did! He should have known better... and he knew better! He just...
He just wanted you to be happy. And, he thought you would be happier if he left you alone for a while. In the meantime, he would continue building that perfect life for you to come home to, filled with nothing but comfort and luxuries. But look at you now, you were robbed of your innocence, and, your friend blamed himself for it.
You're suffering and he was the cause of it. only if he didn't neglect you in the first place...
No...
Only if you didn't fucking reject him over and over again. Things would have turned out differently. You also had a part in this!
You covered your face out of embarrassment, you did not want him to see you at this stage of life. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this.
Please leave me alone. You said.
You always knew your friend to be the softest, sweetest person around you. He never got physically violent to anyone (at least, to your knowledge).
Imagine the shock when he yanked your hand away from your face and delivered a devastating slap to your face. You were stunned as the ringing of your ears and the pain of the blow overwhelm your senses. Within moments, a red print was formed on your cheek.
Your parents rushed in to put a barrier between you and him, but he ignored them and began yelling and pointing at you hysterically.
I trusted you! I trusted you! How dare you do this to yourself!? I worked so fucking hard-- I sacrificed everything for you, and you can't even keep yourself healthy! Oh, he was angry. He was shouting and screaming, most of the time it just made you scared and confused. You can't understand what he was getting at because he was jumbling over his words.
Your hands, they aren't supposed to look like mine and look what you have done to them! His voice went hoarse from all the exertion.
You weren't supposed to work for anything in life, I was supposed to provide for you! Why can't you just fucking depend on me!? Why can't you just accept me!?
You can only watch on as he threw a massive tantrum, your father tried his best to pull him away from the room, but to no avail.
You are going to depend on me, I am going to provide for you and that's final! I don't care what you think, you can't be trusted to do anything alone! With that final piece, he wrenched himself off your father's grip and stormed out of your childhood bedroom, slamming the door behind him so hard, that some wall décor fell to the ground with a loud crash.
He is going to replace them later. Now, he needs to make a few phone calls.
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secret-gallavich · 5 months
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Shameless Whumptober Masterlist
just a list of all the shameless whump fics i wrote in october
Safety Net
tw suicidal thoughts
Mickey has always been there for Ian, even when he's in Mexico and Ian wants to jump off a bridge.
Solitary Confinement
tw mistreatment of mental illness
Ian’s meds were bound to get out of whack at some point in their prison stay.
Made To Watch
tw implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse
Ian and Mickey go to a couple’s therapist once a month.
Outnumbered
tw implied/referenced rape/non-con , implied/referenced underage sex , child abuse
Laura Milkovich is 19 years old when she gives birth to her third baby, Mikhailo. It’s the 10th of August in 1994, her husband is in jail and she’s a mother once again
You Said You'd Never Leave
tw suicidal thoughts
Ian comes home from the hospital and Mickey isn't there.
Insomnia
Mickey thought he was just having trouble adjusting to the new surroundings of living in the Westside. He’s not used to the quietness, he’s feeling homesick or the moon is too fucking bright.
Infection
Mickey’s never felt…normal when it comes to Ian. Ian makes him weird and do things he’d never normally do. Like get a tattoo of his name on his chest in prison.
Makeshift Bandages
Mickey hides an injury from Ian while working at the Kash 'N' Grab
Leave Me Alone
tw horror, mistreatment of mental illness, murder, dead dove: do not eat, paranormal, major character death
Ian's convinced something is haunting their apartment. Mickey realises he's telling the truth when it's too late.
Drugging
tw drugged, date rape drug
Mickey’s started going to the club with Ian just to make sure no one takes advantage of him. He lets Ian do his thing, give out lapdances, sweet talk them for some extra cash but he’s always stepping in when they go too far.
Floral Bouquet
tw major character death
Ian passes by a flower shop every day on his morning runs but can't bring himself to go inside.
You Will Regret Touching Them
tw implied/referenced child abuse
S03E06 but it goes differently.
Mickey feels like he’s going to throw up at any second.
He’s got a boy spending the night with him. Not just any boy, Ian. Ian is staying the night and he’s trying to play it casual but he can’t stop glancing over at the red head just to make sure he’s really there.
Don't Move
Mickey is allergic to bees and fucking hates spring
Who's There?
tw thriller, horror
Mickey is home alone and starts hearing noises outside the house.
Storm
tw implied/referenced rape, child abuse, internalised homophobia
Mickey's feeling post S03E06.
The hooker is still here, looking just as scared as he is and putting her purple dress back on under Terry’s watchful eyes. He throws her a bag of coke and she fumbles to catch it. Terry won’t stop glaring at her and Mickey takes it as his chance to look at Ian’s empty spot. He’d taken his clothes, wasn’t sure if Ian was allowed to get changed here or if he left in his boxers.
You Look Awful
tw gay bashing, hatecrime
Ian laughs next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him close and Mickey laughs back and turns his body into Ian’s. Adrenaline is running through his body and he feels so fucking good right now, it’s the best high he’s ever had.
Mickey's feelings post coming out
Bloody Knife
Ian wasn’t expecting their little trip back to the Southside to end up like this.
‘This’ being the emergency room because Mickey somehow got himself stabbed.
Borrowed Clothes
tw suicidal thoughts, psych ward
The first 24 hours are the hardest.
It’s full of regret on his own behalf, self-loathing and running thoughts of ‘what if’. What if he had been paying more attention, what if he wasn’t so focused on work, what if Mickey had been a good husband?
Body Modifications
tw implied/referenced child abuse
Mickey's always had a love hate relationship with his knuckle tattoos
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kiwisfics · 2 months
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A/N: Don't read this if you don't like dark fics! Don't come at me if you don't like the content. Triggers are listed and the only non-"constructive" comments I'll take are about any triggers that need to be added. I said I was gonna post this like... three days ago but I kept going over it again so if I don't post it now I'm not gonna. JUST TAKE THIS! Let me know if I missed any uses of my SI's name when I was editing.
Context Needed: I normally keep the fics I write that are lore-heavy to myself, but since people said they wanted the dark fic… Reader is a rifter, which basically means that she’s capable of traveling dimensions, and is conditionally immortal. Reader goes by Black Robin and is implied to have a suit that shows a lot of skin and to have a flirty persona as a vigilante.
TWs under the cut because there's... a lot.
Light TWs: Self-loathing, reader diminishes her own worth, reader has past trauma with being left behind by people she cares about, Dick is giving reader the silent treatment at the beginning but it’s mostly pre-setting, canon-typical violence/blood mentions. “Good girl” gets used condescendingly.
Heavy TWs: Do NOT read this if you have any triggers related to rape/non-con. Nothing actually happens, but it heavily revolves around reader believing that it's going to. Seriously, don't read this if you don't like whumpy stuff, because you're not gonna like it. My love of whumper to caretaker shows through here. Lots of mentions of trafficking, reader is kidnapped by said traffickers, fear of rape/non-con, Dick is very mean. Like, seriously, he’s very OOC for the majority of this fic. Threats/implications of rape/non-con, inappropriate use of one of his escrima sticks (just in the mouth) reader has a spiral at the end where she’d convinced that Nightwing and Red Hood are going to rape her.
If it’s any consolation, this is technically hurt/comfort, so it isn’t all horrible. Just… most of it. Reader also forgives him far too fast in the end, but I can gladly share some more snippets of how this affects the reader character in the future. I’ve already got ideas for some short scenes that I’m gonna write.
-
Nightwing was going to kill her.
He’d been explicitly clear: he didn’t want to see Black Robin out ever again. She’d nearly gotten herself killed, but she knew that wasn’t why he was so angry. He couldn’t have cared less about that, after all, she was a rifter and that meant that she was built to take pain and that death was a moot point. He was angry because she’d risked the mission, nearly let a trafficker that they’d all been hunting for weeks get away because she got too confident for her own good.
She’d snapped back at him when he told her that she wasn’t to wear the suit again, told him that he was just like Batman. That was the wrong thing to say.
He hadn’t talked to her since.
So, maybe she was trying to bait him a little by coming into Blüdhaven in her suit, maybe she was trying to get his attention back because she couldn’t stand being punished with the silent treatment. Maybe this was her fault.
Well, it was definitely her fault, but in her defense, she was thinking with her heart and not her head. She didn’t want to lose him, and in some twisted way, having him level her with lecturing and anger was still better than the radio silence.
She would have been fine. Nightwing would never actually hurt her. That wasn’t what went wrong.
Her suit didn’t have a panic button. It didn’t need one because she was forbidden from going out on her own even before she’d wrecked a mission and been benched. So, when she’d stolen a bike and made her way to Blüdhaven in costume while Bruce was off-world, Tim was with the Titans, Jason was off on a no contact mission, and Alfred was distracted with keeping Damian from abandoning his studies in favor of full-time vigilantism, no one knew where she was going.
She’d even been stupid enough to leave a note saying that she was heading home to visit family, and she wouldn’t be back for a while.
Alfred would have already found the note. Bruce wouldn’t start worrying for at least forty-eight hours with no word.
By then, it might be too late. Too late for her pride and her self-respect at least.
For now, she contented herself with growling and spitting at the traffickers, fighting the urge to be sick over the taste of her own blood soaking the rag in her mouth. She had no chance of picking the locks on the handcuffs, because she’d never gotten the hang of it while Bruce was teaching her, so she didn’t bother fiddling with them, instead preserving her energy.
If no one found her, she’d need her energy if she got the chance to run. They’d have to uncuff her from the chair if they wanted to-
She gulped, pushing down the thought.
Nightwing was going to kill her, but he was also the only chance she had of getting out of this without something worse than torture occurring.
She could see the leering. She could read the expressions. She promised herself that if she got out of this, then she was going to change the layout of her suit. She needed to cover more skin. She needed to flirt less with enemies too, apparently, because the men that had grabbed her had parroted some of her own lines back at her while they gagged her and dragged her back to this warehouse.
It was always warehouses. For once, she wanted to get dragged to a penthouse suite and get threatened and tortured by a classy villain.
Nightwing was going to kill her, but she couldn’t help the way that her chest lurched with relief and happiness upon seeing his form drop to the floor from one of the open skylights.
At once, all of the guns were on him, but, as suspected, he didn’t so much as flinch.
“Here to save your little friend? Awful bold to jump right in the middle of the warehouse full of men with guns, even for you, Nightwing.”
He tilted his head, the clench in his jaw speaking of rage.
She was sure she was saved, because even if he was mad at her and was going to give her a lecture that might have her in tears by the end of it, Nightwing wouldn’t hurt her. Dick wouldn’t hurt her.
“Save her? No. She’s just getting exactly what she asked for.”
Her stomach lurched this time, but it was with fear and a sickly cold feeling that crawled up her throat like it was being swarmed by ants.
Was she wrong? There was no way he would just leave her to her fate. He’d saved genuinely terrible people from situations that weren’t even as bad as the one that she’d found herself in, so there was no way he was going to leave her here, just because they’d had a fight.
Right?
The men’s guns all seemed to lower in the slightest bit, but they didn’t leave his form, “You expect us to believe you’re going to just leave her here? That you just dropped in for a friendly chat?”
“Oh, no. I don’t plan to leave her here. You just saved me the trouble of getting her pinned down is all.” He twirled one of his escrima in his hand, like it was a fidget toy instead of a dangerous weapon. “I appreciate you making my night easier, but I’m going to be taking her off of your hands now.”
So, he was saving her, right? He was contradicting himself, but she didn’t care what he said if he got her out of this.
“Thought you weren’t saving her,” the guns raised back to their full height, the leader scoffed, “you go play hero somewhere else for the night and maybe will give her back when she’s nice and broken in. Might not even charge you the full rate.”
She didn’t like having her suspicions confirmed about what they planned to do with her, but that was fine. She had guessed that, and it didn’t matter anymore, because Nightwing was here and that meant that these idiots were just delaying the inevitable rescue he’d come to pull off.
“Well, I guess you could consider it saving. After all, I might not be quite as into pain as some of your clients are, but you shouldn’t worry, I plan to make good use of her.”
What?
No, no, that wasn’t right. He was not actually implying that he was going to use her exactly how these men planned to. There was no way. He was Nightwing. He was-
They’d been flirting since they’d met, the kind of flirting that made everyone that didn’t know better think they were already an item. Even she knew that he was attracted to her, but… had she really pushed her luck this far? Had she really made him hate her so much that the only way he wanted to make a move on that attraction was like this?
She was having more and more trouble holding back on throwing up the meal she’d had before leaving Gotham.
“Yeah, right. You expect us to believe you want her as a toy?” The leader scoffed.
She wished she was that certain that he was lying about it.
Dick- Nightwing walked forward, still twirling his escrima as he approached her. The men parted for him despite keeping their weapons squarely aimed.
“Who could blame me?”
She could feel his eyes burning into hers even behind his mask. Her own mask was long gone, leaving him an unabated view of her frightened eyes. She was sure there was betrayal there too.
His escrima rested beneath her chin, and she forced her head back, trying to put distance between her skin and the weapon that she knew could easily shock her, “Look how pretty she is when she’s scared.”
She tried to muffle the whine that escaped her throat, but there was no way that he didn’t hear it.
What was going on? This was wrong. Was this- was someone wearing his face?
No, she couldn’t pin it on that, because no one knew about the way he’d yelled at her about never wearing the suit again, and there was no denying that was what he meant when he’d said she was getting what she asked for.
He really did hate her, then. She’d really, really messed up, and now he hated her, and for some reason the sting that knowledge made bite at her heart was worse than the fear at what he planned to do to her.
“And what kind of payment are we getting out of this? We could make hundreds at least by selling a vigilante, especially if we only rent her out. And this one can break over and over again, just to heal back up. She’d a goldmine of opportunities. Why would we just hand her over to you?”
Dick’s—no, no, she couldn’t think of him as anything other than Nightwing, because if she thought of him as Dick, then she was going to breakdown for sure; Dick didn’t hate her, Dick cuddled her during movie nights and carried her to bed when she fell asleep—Nightwing’s jaw ticked with irritation. Apparently, he hadn’t expected them to be so unwilling to give her up just because he wanted her to himself.
Was he waiting for this? Did he know what he was going to do as soon as he’d told her to never put the suit on again? Was he hoping that she would, just so he could use it to justify punishing her like this?
His empty hand trailed up her chest, just barely brushing her shirt, but it was enough to make a jolt go down her spine. He grabbed her jaw, the escrima stick brushing lightly against her cheekbone, “You’re going to let me take her without causing me any more trouble, because otherwise, I’ll be telling the Bat about your outposts in Gotham.”
Angry muttering began among the traffickers, but the leader remained silent, “That’s not much of a payment.” He hummed, like he was considering the offer, but anyone could tell that he already planned to ask for more, “Tell you what, you can take her out of here, no problem. I’m not interested in getting caught by a stray bullet in a firefight, and, honestly, keeping one of the Bat’s things seems like asking for trouble. She didn’t put up much of a fight, so you can walk out with her, after you give us a show.”
She gagged audibly on the rag in her mouth, tears finally escaping her eyes while she put renewed effort into forcing the rag out of her mouth. She wanted to beg and plead and cry. If he was going to do anything to her, at the very least she didn’t want an audience.
For his part, she could see his eyes widen just a fraction behind his mask, but the surprise quickly seemed to settle, and he flashed a smirk to the men that made her feel like she was about to start hyperventilating.
“Fine.”
No, no, no, no, no.
He pulled the gag from her mouth with the hand that had been against her chin, and she instantly opened her mouth to beg, but snapped it shut a millisecond later, her teeth clacking together almost painfully.
His escrima stick was resting against her lips, and his free hand was holding her jaw again, fingers squeezing against her cheeks in an attempt to make her open her mouth, but she wasn’t budging. She wasn’t stupid, and maybe cooperation would make things better in the long run, but she wasn’t letting him put his weapon in her mouth.
“Unless you want this to hurt a lot more later, you should cooperate right now. I’d hate to use this somewhere-“
Her mouth shot open before he could finish, fast enough that her jaw popped.
Okay, so she was letting him put his weapon in her mouth. She’d take the loss.
“Good girl.”
She hated that the praise stroked something in her, making her heart flutter even while he shoved the escrima stick past her lips and far enough into her mouth to hit her throat and make her gag.
Blood. Steel. An iron tang that made her brain go blank for long enough that she missed what he said next.
He didn’t appreciate that.
“Am I boring you?” He growled the words as his free hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head forward, making the escrima stick hit the back of her throat again with what was almost a bruising force. “I asked if you were going to behave, or if I was going to need to make you deepthroat this while it was on, but I guess I have my answer.”
Cold terror battered against her ribcage in place of her heart. All that was left in her chest was a black hole of absolute horror and fear that could hardly classify as a heart.
She didn’t realize that the sobbing in her ears was her own at first, too far into her own head and too tense while waiting for him to flick the switch to make this humiliation painful to know what was going on around her.
She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe!
And suddenly everything around her stopped and went deathly silent before gunfire began and the yelling of the traffickers became frantic and chaotic. The only words she picked up were “it’s the Hood!” and what normally would have made her think she was saved only made her panic more, because if Nightwing—the one that had held her while she cried and always agreed to musicals just because he knew she loved them—was going to use her as a toy, than that meant that Red Hood would too. She was sure he hated her too. She’d thought the way they bantered was fun and games, but she’d also thought that Nightwing cared about her and clearly, she was wrong about that. Nightwing had probably called him here so he could take out the frustration he had with her on her.
And then they’d tell Batman that they’d found evidence that she’d been trafficked and then they’d keep her locked up somewhere and- and- and- and- she couldn’t-
“Breathe.” A familiar hand fanned across her cheek, fingers brushing away tears that were immediately replaced with more, “Breathe for me, bird. It’s alright. It’s okay.”
She couldn’t. She couldn’t catch her breath, but the escrima stick wasn’t between her teeth anymore, so she could beg now. She could plead and promise to behave and maybe if she asked nice enough and they believed her then they’d let her go after they were done with her instead of keeping her.
“Please, please, I’m- I’m sorry, I-I’ll never wear the suit again, I promise. I promise.  I’ll be good. I won’t fight, I’ll-“
“Hey, hey, stop.” He pressed his hand against her mouth, not hard enough to force her to be quiet or to muffle her voice if she did continue to beg, but she silenced herself instantly regardless. “You’re okay, bird. Just breathe. I’d never hurt you. Never. There wasn’t a way to warn you about what was going on without cluing them in. I’m so sorry, bird. I really am.”
He sounded like he was about to cry, and the way he was holding her face in his hands certainly didn’t give her the idea that he was going to hurt her or force her down to her knees so he could-
“I could think of a hundred better ways to have gone about that, ‘wing.” Hood’s voice made her flinch and sink farther down in the chair she was tied to. She didn’t even move her legs or arms when he’d gotten the cuffs undone.
“I needed to distract them so you could get the files and I’m still injured. I wouldn’t even be out tonight if you hadn’t told me that they’d gotten their hands on her. If I’d tried to fight them, then they would have taken me out before finding you, so I don’t want to hear it. Don’t act like I wanted to do or say any of that.”
That was… fair. It wasn’t fair to her, but she had gotten herself into this situation and- she would forgive everything if it meant that he wasn’t going to hurt her. Actually, she’d let him hurt her if it meant that he wasn’t going to use her.
“Dick?” She whined out his name like a kicked puppy, tilting her face against one of his hands in a placating gesture.
“Yeah, bird. I’m here. It’s me. That wasn’t real. None of it was real, and you’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you, especially not me.”
Another sob tore from her throat, and she threw herself forward, into his arms. She was trembling and sobbing harder than he’d ever heard, and she was almost positive it was harder than she ever had in her life. His form wrapped around her, tucking her against his chest as he pressed his face against the top of her head and placed comforting kisses.
Jason sat on the ground behind her, one of his hands running circles against her back in an effort to assist in calming her, and it worked.
After her sobbing began to slow, Dick spoke up hesitantly, “I thought you would know. I never meant- I thought you would know that it wasn’t real. I thought you knew I’d never hurt you.” His breaths shuddered, “I thought you knew that I love you.”
“But you- you were mad at me. You told me- told me I could never wear the suit again and- and then you didn’t talk to me all week and I thought- I thought you hated me. And- and I came here to get your attention because you were ignoring me, so- so I would have deserved-“
“Hey, no. Don’t even finish that sentence.” His hold on her tightened and his voice turned even more tense, edged with anger, “No one deserves to be taken advantage of and you know that.”
She sniffled, tucking her face tight against his neck, and breathing in the scent of his suit and sweat. “You said you love me.”
There was a long pause, and Jason took it as his cue to leave, ruffling [Name]’s hair as he stood and headed out of the warehouse. He landed a boot against the ribcage of the leader of the traffickers as he passed by.
“I’m going to alert Blüdhaven PD. Half of their guys are probably on this group’s payroll though, so I’d get out of here before they show up. They’re probably hoping whoever shut down this location sticks around so they can fill them with lead.”
“We’re headed out now.” Dick stood as he said it, taking [Name] with him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung onto him.
“You said you love me.”
“I did,” he finally confirmed, “but I don’t think now is the time to talk about-“
“I love you too. So much.”
He went quiet again, feet still carrying them away from the nightmare that she’d just gone through, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for that.”
She tightened her hold around him, burrowing against him as a sign that she wasn’t holding any grudges, but also in an attempt to hide from the could Blüdhaven night.
“I knew you were after them. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in it. I just… I wanted you to talk to me again. Even if you were angry. I… I don’t handle the silent treatment well and… it felt like you were leaving me behind, just like everyone else always does. It felt like you had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.”
“Never. I’ll never leave you behind, okay? I know that me saying that isn’t going to make you stop thinking that I might, but I’ll prove it, alright? I’ll never leave you behind.” He brushed his lips against her neck, and she couldn’t fight the light laugh that escaped as the gentle touch tickled her skin.
“Okay. I, uh, just… one thing though.”
“Anything.”
“Please keep the escrima sticks away from me for a while?”
 She could feel him cringe, but he nodded, “Yeah. That’s fair.”
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thatgirl4815 · 2 years
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The Vegas Effect
~ A Deep Dive into Pete’s Mind ~
I decided to make this post to pair with my The Pete Effect post, where I looked at the psychology of Vegas’s character. Since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about Pete, what makes him tick, and what Vegas’s character proves about him. I’ve talked a lot about Ep12 already, but somehow I always come up with more to say...
**⚠️ TW ⚠️ ** for (child) abuse, torture, trauma, etc.
Traces of Abuse
Besides a few fine points, Pete’s character has been, for the most part, shrouded in mystery. What do we know about him, really? His father beat him when he was young, he provides for and loves his grandmother, and he’s been working for the major family for quite some time. Aside from that, our knowledge of Pete has been mostly confined to his actions/dialogue in the present. In my opinion, not elaborating on Pete’s past in detail is 100% intentional. 
The show, understandably, focuses on Vegas’s trauma for what I see as a few reasons. He’s the villain, so if they want audiences to feel any sort of connection to VegasPete’s story, he has to be fleshed out beyond his villainous behavior. His trauma is also ongoing, as his father abuses him regularly. From what we can tell, the only source of trauma in Pete’s life at the moment is Vegas. But just because Vegas demonstrates more obvious signs of traumatized, self-loathing behavior doesn’t mean that Pete does not also express the effects of his own past, albeit more subtly. 
Self-Sacrifice
On the surface, the differences between Vegas and Pete are extreme. I won’t bother divulging them because they’re staggeringly apparent right away. What I will get into, however, is the differences in their trauma response. As I said previously, Vegas directs a lot of his hate inward. It builds up to the point of lashing out--rather than confronting that inward hate, Vegas directs it outside of himself. It’s a coping mechanism.
For Pete, it’s different. I’ve no doubt that his father’s abuse as a child left a permanent scar. But while Vegas directs his self-hatred outward, Pete is constantly making sacrifices. Vegas and Pete represent the difference between harming others to make yourself feel better and putting others’ worth above your own.
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There’s an interesting separation here, because on the surface, Pete seems to understand the importance of valuing oneself. Like here^, he specifically tells Vegas that self-injury is not a viable coping mechanism. And in Ep11, the “they, themselves, suck” scene does something similar with Pete acknowledging that his own father’s abuse was not his fault. 
Why, then, do I think that Pete doesn’t value himself? Well, it comes down to the difference between empathy and self-sacrifice. Empathy is a healthy, admirable quality, but self-sacrifice can actually be detrimental. There’s a necessary distinction between these terms. 
So, what are Pete’s self-sacrificing behaviors?
He volunteers to investigate Vegas at the risk of his own life. He’s doing it for Porsche, but he’s putting everything on the line to do so. He’s going in without backup and a very loose plan. He also doesn’t seem particularly concerned with how he’s going to make it out. It’s brave, it’s selfless, but it’s also reckless.
He returns to Vegas even after he tortured him. This is the big one. Pete should have left Vegas when he had the chance. It doesn’t matter that he’s started to see all of Vegas’s brokenness and trauma. It doesn’t matter if he can empathize and sympathize with it. Vegas is still Vegas, the man who brutally tortured and assaulted him. Pete has every reason to go. And yet...he doesn’t. 
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When Vegas asks why Pete didn’t run away, Pete hesitates. He doesn’t seem to know consciously, but I’d argue that it’s been laid out by his previous actions. Pete does bad things, but I think at his core, he’s a genuinely good person. He saw Vegas falling into a pit of despair, and he couldn’t help himself. But that effort to help Vegas comes at a personal cost.
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We then arrive at the sex scene. There’s no denying that Pete wants it. We see the ways he responds to Vegas, and we see the way he initiates. But I don’t think that should blind us to the fact that having sex with Vegas is yet another sacrifice, of sorts.
An Exchange
This might be a contestable argument given that, as I said, Pete does enjoy it. And “sacrifice” might not be the right word in this case, since it implies that Pete is risking himself/not getting anything in return. But I don’t think we can overlook the fact that by giving the control to Vegas, Pete is helping him--and he knows it. He’s offering Vegas control for what I believe are two reasons: 1) part of him enjoys being at someone else’s mercy and 2) he knows Vegas craves power, and giving it to him combats his lack of self-worth. It’s like Pete is presenting Vegas with another coping mechanism...in this case, himself.
We can safely assume that Pete has figured Vegas out pretty well over the past two episodes. Vegas enjoys torturing him. Vegas brings him along to the safe house. Vegas likes when Pete reacts to and defies him. Vegas lashes out when Pete calls him “sensitive” and in need of love...so it all makes to Pete that affection is exactly what Vegas is craving. And Pete can provide that for him. Even if Pete enjoys the sex too, there’s no denying that there is a sacrifice being made in the power dynamic. But it’s complicated by the fact that Vegas sacrifices that power first.
I said elsewhere that I believe VP would’ve had sex regardless if Vegas backed off and let Pete initiate, but in that case, Pete would’ve been merely allowing it to happen rather than taking charge. It’s also important to note that at the end of the day, Pete is still offering himself up, at least in part, to lift Vegas out of his despair. In that sense, it’s similar to--but not exactly the same as--a sacrifice.
--
Overall, I’d say this: 
Pete knows the importance of self-worth, and he encourages it in the people around him. But when it comes to himself, Pete’s empathetic nature (and, in my opinion, his own past trauma) has led him to disregard his own. It’s completely unintentional, but it’s psychologically damaging over in the long run. 
This is why I desperately want someone else to sacrifice for him. Whether it be Porsche, Kinn, or Vegas--I need someone to show Pete his own worth in a big way, the same way he’s been committed to showing everyone else how worthy they are.
...Once again, I ended up talking a lot about Vegas in a post that is dedicated to Pete, but that’s just a testament to their psychological similarities. Together, VP have a lot to say about the effects of abuse and trauma.
For more KP meta, look here! 
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🤗 for jay
Eden
Whumptember day 22. Captive whumpee | New whumper
TW: guilt, self loathing, referenced major character death, pet whumpee, multiple whumpees, carewhumper
Note: Yeah yeah, I know this was supposed to be comfort, but I wanted to delve into Jay's mindset, and it isn't comfortable at all.
Jay knew, deep down, that they had ruined everything. Not their own life. No, of course not. There were only so many times someone could do that to themself. Instead, they had ruined the lives of the only two people who cared for them.
They couldn't understand how they could be so cruel, even by mistake. There wasn't anywhere else for them to go, but they resented their own presence as much as Ezra did. Even if they pretended not to notice every sigh of annoyance when they needed his help.
It felt... bad. Asking so for much and doing nothing to help anybody. Especially when Ezra clearly prefered Christopher, and Christopher clearly prefered Colt. Maybe they would be fine if it were just the two of them, even if they weren't ever getting Colt back.
Despite having seen it all too many times, Jay still couldn't understand the concept of death. It hurt their brain to think about. And all they could really convince themself of was that Colt had abandoned them, and probably found a replacement by now. What else could it be?
Christopher and Ezra both tried their hardest assure Jay that they weren't a burden. But they knew better. They didn't deserve the good meals that filled their stomach to the point of bursting, or the warm hugs that melted all their troubles away for a blissful minute.
And Jay sure as hell didn't deserve to be treated like a beloved family member. Not while they were keeping secrets, and hoping beyond hope that Ezra and Christopher never figured out why they were with Colt in the first place. That would ruin everything.
But Ezra wasn't under any obligation to treat Jay nicely. Every scrap of affection had to come from some very real place on his heart, even if Jay couldn't quite fathom it. Ezra was nice. Even if he got annoyed so easily.
Christopher wasn't under any obligation either. But that thought was less than comforting. How many mistakes would Jay have to make before he kicked them out? Thry knew they were a constant reminder of Colt, and they hated themself for it.
This was their idea of paradise, but it was far from perfect. It was their own flaws that made it so unbearable, despite the best intentions of those around them. God have mercy on their broken little soul.
Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit @camislycaon24 @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump @pixelated-whump
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justaduckarts · 1 year
Note
For the writing prompts:
1. “Hey. Hey, I’m here. Don’t worry. It’s okay now.” and
2. “Can’t you just— can’t you just go?” “I’m not leaving you alone until you’re okay.”
For DLNS if you’d like? (Or one of your other stories if you think of a better scene!)
So sorry for taking so long to get to this, things got away from me.
Some love for DLNS! Absolutely I can do that. <3
Spoilers for DLNS ahead (but not really major spoilers, I'd say).
TW: Mentions of Violence, Self Loathing
How do you cope after learning that you've done something terrible?
How do you move on from knowing that you've done irreparable damage to people that the person you love cares about?
Moon didn't have the answer. And he desperately needed it.
The air in Parts and Service was stagnant. Cody took a slow breath, hands on his hips. He stood at the glass window looking into one of the observation rooms. Moon sat on the floor in the far corner. His back to the glass.
"Moon," Cody said, "c'mon. You've gotta do these tests so you and Sun can be released to the daycare."
"Just leave the lights on." Moon's voice was cold.
Cody stared for a long moment before sighing. He nodded, turning and leaving. The door to parts and service felt shut with a thump.
Silence.
You can't keep doing this, Moon. They'll decommission us. Sun's voice was weak.
"Let them." Moon wrapped his arms around himself tighter.
There was a metal whine as the door to parts and service opened once more. Footsteps echoed through the room.
When the footsteps stopped at the window into Moon's observation room, he growled.
"I told you to leave me alone, Cody."
"Good thing I'm not Cody," you said quietly.
Tense silence followed.
Sighing, Moon slowly turned to look at you.
"Hey, Moonbeam." You offered him a smile.
"Starlight," he looked at you, face twisted with despair.
Glancing over your shoulder, you made sure no one was coming. Then, you walked over and opened the door to Moon's observation room.
"What are you doing?" Moon looked up at you, eyes wide. "You're not supposed to come in here. I could hurt-
"You're not gonna hurt me, Moonbeam. I know you won't." You stepped towards him. Moving slowly, so he would have time to move away. You sat on the floor in front of him.
Moon looked at you, hands fidgeting.
"I missed you," you said quietly, holding out your hand. Hesitantly, Moon took your hand.
"I missed you, star." He managed a smile, but it didn't last. "Star... I'm so sorry. I- I hurt your friend- I- I-
"Hey. Hey. I'm here. Don't worry. It's okay now, Moon."
You stood up, moving to wrap your arms around him. He wrapped tight around you, shaking against you.
"What if I do it again? I almost hurt you." Moon's voicebox crackled with static.
"You're not going to, Moonbeam," you said gently. "We're going to be okay. It's going to be okay."
Shaking his head, Moon pulled away from you.
"I'm not leaving you alone until you're okay."
"No. It isn't. It isn't going to be okay. I still- I still feel angry. I still feel- I'm never going to be the same, star." He looked at you hopelessly. "I'm broken."
"That's not true, Moonbeam. You aren't broken," you reached for him. "You're hurt. But we can work on it. We can get better."
"Can't you just- Can't you just go?"
Moon crossed his arms, looking away from you. You shook your head.
"I'm not leaving you alone until you're okay."
You gently cupped his faceplate, guiding him to look at you. He looked up at you with wide eyes.
"We're in this together, Moon. You, me, and Sun. I love you guys."
Moon's mouth fell open. Soft whirring filled the room.
"You- Why?"
His question was so soft. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"I don't even know where to start," you laughed, "you guys are so amazing. I can't express it enough."
Suddenly, you were being wrapped in his arms. Moon pulled you down into his lap and held you close.
"We love you too, star. We love you so much." He was still shaking against you. "I'm so scared."
"Me too," you sighed, "but we're in it together. Okay?"
"Okay."
How do you cope after everything you know has been twisted?
How do you cope when you're terrified of who you have become?
Moon doesn't know the answers.
But sitting there, holding you.
He thought that maybe you being there would make it a little easier to get through.
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legendaryevokercupcake · 10 months
Text
MAJOR Cannibalism TW
The journey across the Helcaraxe took far longer than the elves expected it to. They had nowhere near enough food, and even the elves need to eat. So they did what they had to do.
Fingolfin did what he had to do because he was stubborn.
Fingon does what he must because he has to survive long enough to see Maedhros again.
Turgon does what he must because he will not let his daughter be orphaned.
Galadriel does what she must because she still needs to punch Feanor in the face.
Argon and Elenwe did not live long enough to need another food source.
Glorfindel, half frozen to death himself from repeatedly diving into the frigid waters to rescue others, didn't even have the capacity to choose whether or not to take the actions he took until they had already begun, and once you start, you don't stop until there's a better option.
When it is finished, they will never speak of it again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feanor's army is left without food a great many times.
Before the sun's first rise and set, the Feanorians have created a way to determine who lives and dies in times of starvation, and they too refuse to speak of what happened to their dead.
They refuse because Maedhros, for all his protest of killing other elves, was the first to slit the throat of the elf chosen to die.
They refuse because not even Maglor can bring himself to sing of this, and Maglor could sing of his own family dying.
They refuse because Caranthir, for all his brutality and cruelty, believes that they are wrong.
But most importantly, they refuse because the first elf they ate was Amrod.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second most important time the Feanorian army is left starving is in F.A 548. This is the event with the most guilt around it.
Survivor's guilt from Elrond, because for all intents and purposes, the stolen twins should have been the first to die.
Inequality guilt from Elros and Erestor, because they knew that they weren't going to be harmed and they did not step in to suggest something better.
Existential guilt from Maglor, because he cannot bring himself to think that this is their fault.
And the overwhelming, self-loathing guilt of Maedhros, because at the end of the long, bloody day, he knows he should have done something to stop this. To make sure two sixteen year old half-elves didn't have to choose between starving and sinning. To make sure his brother didn't have to make that decision for them. He should have done anything.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the late Third Age, the few elves who know all of what happened are together in a city. Odd behaviors surround them like shrouds, concealing a much darker past. The people of Imladris have learned not to try to pull back these shrouds.
They don't ask questions when the mere sight of a red drink forces Erestor to hide in his chambers and cry.
They don't ask questions when the mere sight of meat has a good chance of making sure Glorfindel won't be able to keep anything down for days.
They don't ask questions when a particular word or phrase has Elrond refusing any food altogether for days.
They don't question, because they don't want the answer. They don't want to know what can break a man like Erestor, who acts like a glacier made of intelligence. They don't want to know what makes a Balrog slayer feel sick. They don't want to know what manages to drive a perfect person like their lord to the brink of complete collapse.
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chrysochroma · 27 days
Text
Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist!
@febuwhump i made it babeyyy! thank you so much for organizing this, i had a lot of fun!!
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Total Word Count: 25,212
Day 1: helpless - “show us some good entertainment"
Hermitcraft, Teen, 1.1k
TW: blood, violence, broken bones
Day 2: solitary confinement - within your walls (desire, desire, till there’s nothing left of me)
Hermitcraft, Teen, 2.4k
TW: Kidnapping, Torture, Human Experimentation, Temporary Character Death
Day 3: ALT 4: human weapon - These are the Glorious Days (TGD) Ch 1: Slice, Come Paradise
Generation Loss, Teen, 1k
TW: Major character death, Blood, Flashbacks
Day 4: ALT 1: human shield - Starting With Them
The Owl House, Teen, 1k
TW: Possession, blood, violence
Day 5: rope burns - Black skies change to blue
Tangled the Series/Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1.3k
TW: Blood, Injury, Rope burns, Tourniquets
Day 6: “you lied to me” - Everything Moves Ch 1: So many angles, so many lines
Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1k
TW: crying, yelling, betrayal
Day 7: suffering in silence - TGD Ch 2: I give you the Judgement of God!
Generation Loss, Teen, 1k
TW: Dissection/surgery, Derealization, Graphic description of dissection
Day 8: “why won’t it stop?” - Kill The Rabbit (KTR) Ch 1: Eclipse
Original Work, Mature, 3.4k
TW: Arson, Death, Derealization, Panic Attacks, Scars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
Day 9: bees - Futurum Ch 1: Humanity
Original Work, Teen, 1.2k
TW: Death
Day 10: ALT 9: lightning strike - Sacrosanctity
Original Work, Teen, 1k
TW: blood, lightning, cult ish
Day 11: time loop - KTR Ch 2: Waxing Crescent
Original Work, Mature, 3.2k
TW: Murder, Blood and Violence, some Very distasteful discussion of suicide
I just realized that i forgot to make a tumblr post for it but its too late for that now so
Day 12: ALT 6: immortality - In a Tulip Field (Tulip) Ch 1: Always More
Original Work, Teen, 232
TW: discussion of death
Day 13: “you weren’t meant to get hurt” - Everything Moves Ch 3: So many ways to see the sunrise
Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1.2k
TW: Violence, injury, crying
Day 14: blood stained tiles - Neon green and scarlet red
Danny Phantom, Teen, 857
TW: Dissection/vivisection/surgery, self loathing, bad parenting, blood
Day 15: “who did this to you?” - Rusty Repair Kit (RRK) Ch 1: A Bright Red Poppy
Hermitcraft, Teen, 658
TW: Mourning
Day 16: came back wrong - “You don’t remember?"
Malevolent Podcast, Teen, 642
TW: yelling, swearing
Day 17: hostage situation - I’m Gonna Win Ch 1: I’ll be Bloody and Bruised
Traffic Life, Teen, 100
TW: Defeathering, Violence, Reference to past trauma
Day 18: too weak to move - Thrill of the Chase
The Magnus Archives, Teen, 162
TW: Violence
Day 19: “please don’t” - Everything Moves Ch 2: To keep the pulse alive in you
Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 594
TW: Yelling
Day 20: ALT 7: last words - Tulip Ch 2: Those Who Remember
Original Work, Teen, 187
TW: Discussion of death
Day 21: unresponsive - “All you have is your fire"
Traffic Life, Teen, 100
TW: Unconscious
Day 22: “you weren’t meant to be there” - I’m Gonna Win Ch 2: I’ll be Laughing Alone
Traffic Life, Teen, 200
TW: Yelling
Day 23: presumed dead - Tulip Ch 3: For Them
Original Work, Teen, 181
TW: Discussion of death
Day 24: “i’m doing this because i care about you” - Molten Gold
Traffic Life, Teen, 959
TW: Kidnapping, Flashbacks, References to past trauma, Fire powers, Yelling
Day 25: ALT 5: CPR - Make a mercy out of me
Hermitcraft, Teen, 200
TW: Drowning, Burns, Crying
Day 26: “help them” - Boogeyman
Traffic Life, Teen, 100
TW: Violence, Betrayal, Lying
Day 27: left for dead - RRK Ch 2: Bloodstained Gears
Hermitcraft, Teen, 842
TW: Violence, Blood
Day 28: “no…not like this” - TGD Ch 3: Hail His Majesty!
Generation Loss, Teen, 100
TW: Panic, Yelling
Day 29: not allowed to die - Success
Traffic Life, Teen, 100
TW: Panic, Suicidal thoughts
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spectruminterests · 2 months
Text
“The Lives in Time of Katherine Kaye”
A silly story about my silly OCs! (But there is also Drama and Angst!) I’m posting this in case anyone has heard something about my soulless mad scientist and her chaos-gremlin younger self and wants to know more, or just for anyone who may happen to be interested lol.
This is kinda a draft/summary of the story so far and as such, it’s a mess, but it’s still very long so I’ve put it under a readmore! (TW for (fictional/fantastical) medical stuff, medical procedures without consent, self-harm, internalized ableism of the anti-neurodivergent variety, identity confusion, and child harm/endangerment)
Some characters and a little worldbuilding, before the story gets started:
Beastfolk/Auracai (a weird fantasy race I made up that’s kind of like elves crossed with catpeople):
Beastfolk age at about half the rate of humans and look like normal humans, but with semi-retractable claws, thin catlike tails, red eyes, and sharpened canines.
“Beastfolk” is what humans call them, referencing their “animal” traits. They call themselves Auracai (this is both singular and plural)
They’re originally from another dimension that contacts the human world (the main story’s world) only occasionally - essentially rare but not unheard of immigrants in this world. 
Sometimes people end up in the wrong world by accident, without a way to get home, as travel between worlds is more “randomly/accidentally slipping through the cracks” than intentional, reliable travel.
Beastfolk can sense souls when in direct contact with someone, humans can’t. 
Katherine Kaye (the main character/characters)
2 versions of her in the story, the emotionless mad scientist adult and the adolescent little chaos gremlin
Auracai/Beastfolk
Has Autism + ADHD + Anxiety
has a much older brother, Theodore, who’s been taking care of them since they ended up in the human world together
KT (the adolescent chaos gremlin version of Katherine)
28 (equivalent of 14)
Mischievous streak
A prankster
Really intense emotions, prone to overreacting
Senior in high school because of weird aging
Amateur singer/songwriter/musician and this is a major part of her personality
goes by KT because “it’s like ‘Katie,’ but cooler!”
Both a STEM nerd and an artist
Dreams of having an impact on the world, both of changing things for the better and of being cool and famous
Self-perception swings with her moods: often confident to the point of arrogance or overconfidence, but during a breakdown she’s full of self-loathing and shame.
Wants to travel, explore, and live a somewhat adventurous life; an ordinary office job would never satisfy her. Boring AF and a total waste of her potential.
Pigtails/twin tails
Likes to act cute to get what she wants
Dr. Kaye (the soulless mad scientist/adult version of Katherine)
Removed her own soul (heart/emotions/creativity/etc.) in an experimental process, which she tested on herself in a frustrated attempt to prove herself and to stop having such intense mood swings + be more productive and “better” without her emotional overreactions.
Ended up getting stuck in the past because she was researching interdimensional travel in an attempt to find a reliable way to get back and forth between the human world and the Auracai world (in this story time travel creates a new timeline/slightly different reality)
creepy ever-present smile (this was a form of masking and a coping mechanism, and remains a habit)
egotistical and doesn’t really realize the extent of it: she thinks that without a soul she’s become perfectly logical and efficient and immune to emotional biases. (This is revealed to be untrue when she has to reevaluate the idea that her current “emotionless” state is an improvement.)
now has really limited emotional range and is coldly logical most of the time
still has a few common emotional states though: excited/passionate/enthusiastic about her work, frustrated/annoyed/exasperated with people who are “not smart enough to see her vision” or “keep getting in the way,” amused at others’ incompetence or at messing with people, and a state of discomfort/guilt/concern about what she’s lost and what things have come to that is usually easily repressed and ignored, triggered by reminders of who she used to be
Really any emotion she feels is almost always mild enough to easily ignore.
Started promoting her soul-removal procedure as a “therapy” for anxiety, depression, various other mood disorders and emotional issues, and autism-related intense mood swings.
tends to dismiss other people as running on “mere irrational emotion”
Age: ~80s (early 40s) (She basically has a midlife crisis after getting stuck in the past lol)
she doesn’t tend to go by her first name and absolutely refuses to answer to the nickname “KT,” even from Ted.
almost completely lost her creative, playful side. No interest in anything artistic, including the music she used to love. “Fun” is not only unnecessary, but largely impossible for her, and anything involving conveying or coping with emotions? Forget it.
KT’s brother/guardian: Theodore Kaye
Perpetually exhausted, at the end of his rope
Nicknamed Ted, rarely goes by his full name Theodore
~ 50 (equivalent of 25)
Responsible because he has to be
Introverted
Low energy
Autistic (I love giving everyone the ‘tism lol)
Loyal to his sister, has a special connection with the one person who was there for him both before and after getting stuck in a different world
The story so far:
KT sees something about Dr. Kaye in the news and it mentions that she’s Beastfolk, which makes KT think that maybe she and Ted have a relative they didn’t know about. So KT goes on a bit of a wild goose chase trying to contact this person who might just be someone who happens to have the same last name. They meet, and Dr. Kaye explains the time stuff. Ted is looking for help and Dr. Kaye is like “oh yeah should probably do that, younger me will probably be a great collaborator when she’s a little older.” Ted gets the feeling that something is off about Dr. Kaye, but kinda doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clearly, this is his sister, or a version of her anyway, and although KT is a prankster, she’s a good kid. It’d totally be fine to trust her with… herself. Right? Right?
Time passes, Dr. Kaye recommends KT books, KT gets increasingly curious about Dr. Kaye’s weirder habits. She plays pranks on her, thinking her future self will laugh. She’d laugh. Dr. Kaye pretends to be amused the first time, then doesn’t react at all. She doesn’t react to a lot of things, actually, seeming to have no interest in much of anything, not caring about the things KT has liked her entire life. Something must have happened to her in the future that she refuses to discuss in order to create this weird disconnect, right? 
Meanwhile this entire time Dr. Kaye has just been… watching KT be herself, which causes her a slight, odd feeling of discomfort that she can’t seem to explain. 
Beastfolk, unlike humans, can sense someone’s soul when in direct contact with them. Dr. Kaye is careful to avoid touching people and not make it weird, a habit she formed before getting stuck in the past in order to avoid making other Beastfolk uncomfortable with her soullessness, and has become more important now that she’s stuck in the past and is attempting to hide her lack of a soul.  She also usually locks her bedroom door at night, but one night the door is accidentally left unlocked, and KT notices and tries to play a prank by putting a fake bug in Dr. Kaye’s bed while she’s asleep. She touched Dr. Kaye by accident  - she didn’t really mean to violate her boundaries, but she made the necessary contact and what she sensed was terrifying. 
KT: *screams*
Kaye: *wakes up confused* what the hell are you doing???
KT: *too scared to react*
Kaye: I forgot to lock the door, didn’t I? And now you’re in my room staring at me like a deer in headlights. Just what do you think you’re doing?!? 
KT: I, uh, it was just a prank, I didn’t mean to wake you up, you- your soul…
Kaye: *finds the fake bug* you touched me, didn’t you, as you were messing around trying to plant this ridiculous plastic bug for me to find in the morning… and I suppose I should explain things now that the cat is out of the bag, shouldn’t I? 
She explains to KT about removing her soul and KT is horrified, but even more fascinated. She wants to know more, even though she also wants to run very fast in the opposite direction, and her other self is happy to explain.
KT: *holding Dr. Kaye’s hand, still fascinated by the strange emptiness inside of her* Does… does it hurt? Not having a soul, I mean…
Dr. Kaye: It doesn’t hurt anymore… but it did, at first. I won’t lie to you, removing it was… an extremely painful process. Of course, in most cases it’s done under anesthesia… though I obviously didn’t have that option. After the procedure, there’s definitely some pain, some lingering soreness, which is rather unresponsive to painkillers, but the worst of it fades naturally fairly quickly, and in a few weeks it’s entirely gone.  There’s also a certain sense of emptiness, afterwards… it feels like something is missing deep inside of you, which I suppose is true, but it’s a feeling I didn’t find it hard to get used to. That empty feeling never truly goes away, but it’s distressing at first mostly because it’s disconcerting, rather than being painful. It’s something I can sense even now, if I’m thinking about it, but I no longer find it bothersome, and I haven’t for a long time. 
KT: That… kinda makes sense? And you said you don’t really feel emotions anymore? 
Dr. Kaye: Yes, and that’s been an immense relief. No more anxiety, no more meltdowns. 
KT: … no more happiness, though? 
Dr. Kaye: I suppose you could say that… but I would say that might simply be the cost of being free of emotional bias. I do find I sometimes experience mild emotion-like states… I’ve found it unpleasant to be interrupted while I’m working, for example… but such experiences are transient and low in intensity, and as such they are easily dismissed. 
Dr. Kaye then explains her plans to republish her discoveries in this timeline and promote her soul-removal procedure as a “therapy” for a variety of emotional problems, as she did in her own time. KT, understandably, freaks out further. 
Meanwhile Ted starts realizing that something is deeply wrong with Dr. Kaye and wants his sister back. Eventually Dr. Kaye decides her kid self needs her “treatment” a little early because she keeps “being difficult,” as well as wanting to spare her younger self the suffering of having to live with her emotional overreactions. She tries to figure out the best way to present this to KT so she’ll agree to undergo the procedure willingly, but also prepares to do it by force if necessary, convinced that she knows what’s best for them. KT asks Dr. Kaye about her regrets, which with everything makes the repressed issues come back to the forefront. As she tries to say she regrets nothing and to ask KT to follow in her footsteps, these words somehow seem like a lie. KT is horrified, but her screaming and freaking out just solidifies in Dr. Kaye’s mind that she’s overreacting. She lets KT wear out her panic until she breaks down in despairing tears and states that if KT doesn’t stop resisting, she will force her. 
“KT, listen to me. I’m you. I know what’s best for us. This is for your own good. Now, you can be good and listen to reason, or you can keep fighting and I will have to forcibly sedate you. Either way, when you wake up you won’t have to be sad and scared like this ever again. The pain you might feel now will be nothing compared to all the suffering I’m sparing you.” “W… will… I’m never going play pranks or sing or play music or draw or play pretend ever again will I… but I guess I have to grow up and give that stupid stuff up anyway… I… I have to grow up faster like you and stop that nonsense…”
Dr. Kaye realizes in that moment that she hasn’t done a single creative thing, hasn’t hummed a tune, doodled in the margins of a notebook, made up stories to fall asleep to, anything, since the day she cut out her soul. Is that worthless, or is that something she’s subconsciously missed for a very long time? She remembers that cutting out her own soul was originally an act of desperation and self-hate. She reconsiders everything.
 Meanwhile KT is escaping. She runs home to Ted and cries in his arms. Dr. Kaye realizes that she doesn’t actually want KT to end up like her, and tries to apologize for everything, but is pushed away by Ted. Not wanting to waste this chance to tell her past self what she wishes she’d known, she disappears, but begins to write a diary/memoir of all the regrets she’d never let herself “waste time” dwelling on and all the useful life things she knows from experience that were hard or impossible to find in books. She leaves it for KT one day, around the time of KT’s high school graduation, and KT reads it and tries to find her again. Despite Ted’s deep distrust of Dr. Kaye, they reconnect, originally through email because Ted understandably doesn’t want Dr. Kaye anywhere near his sister. KT really wants to apprentice under Dr. Kaye, as working and training under an experienced mentor is common practice for young people in the Auracai world, and she argues with Ted about it. 
“I thought you really wanted to go to a human university? Wasn’t that your big dream?” “Well kinda, but that was before I met Dr. Kaye! She’d be the perfect mentor because she’s doing so many things and they’re all the things I’m interested in!!!” “Are you completely forgetting that she tried to take your soul?!?? As far as I’m concerned, she’s unstable and dangerous.” “Okay yeah maybe she’s a little unstable but she wouldn’t be dangerous at all to me, she didn’t take my soul because she actually listens to me, remember?” “Katherine. Stop for a moment and listen to yourself. I can’t believe this is a conversation we even need to have.” “I’m trying to listen to myself, that’s kinda the whole point! ;) Someone keeps saying it’s a bad idea!” (KT doesn’t consider herself and Dr. Kaye to be fully one and the same the way Dr. Kaye does, but the joke was far too good for KT to pass up.) “You know what I meant, and it did not involve the potential future you that’s a soulless lunatic!” 
Dr. Kaye starts asking KT for advice on moral and emotional matters, and KT feels needed. Ted begins to relax a little, though he still really doesn’t trust her. Dr. Kaye invites KT to join her on some kind of research trip, and KT sneaks away to do so against Ted’s orders. He is livid with her… but it is a little reassuring that she’s quite unharmed and had a good time. Eventually Ted’s attitude of “I am not letting you walk to your death” softens into “I’m not sure if I can stop you, and it’s really on you if you get hurt after I tried to stop you, but please text me every night with an update on your latest song or art project or whatever or just something about your day, something that’s you, so I know you’re okay.” So KT gets her apprenticeship, and the Katherines end up forming a sort of symbiotic relationship, with Dr. Kaye acting as a mentor, guardian, and voice of reason to KT, and KT acting as Dr. Kaye’s heart and soul and conscience. Dr. Kaye is still soulless but is starting to come to terms with it now… not exactly “okay” but no longer ignoring that there was a loss and more willing to listen to others or at least to her kid self. Although she also likes to say that if she regained her former emotional range now, she’d probably have a heart attack… especially when KT is causing trouble.
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spikey-ferret · 2 years
Text
Why I give Hua Cheng a BPD headcanon
⚠️TW⚠️: mentions of self harm/suicidal behaviors in paragraph 7
hua cheng shows about 7 of the 9 criteria to be diagnosed with bpd
1. His sense of self is almost always changing between feeling extremely positive and confident in his self and feeling extreme self loathing. He will go from saying things about himself like he is one of the most "sincere" people to thinking of himself as a monster.. He most often feels shame especially with his appearance and will use his shape-shifting abilities to hide his true form from the people he cares about. His sense of self is very often changing and can be heavily affected by the people around him.
2. He can be impulsive whether that be constantly gambling or challenging several gods to a fight he often does impulsive things that could potentially be self destructive
3. He has extreme fear of abandonment.  He struggles to open up to Xie Lian due to thinking that he will be rejected and tossed aside. He goes to extreme lengths to avoid this rejection. This could be seen as Hua Cheng going to extreme lengths to avoid being abandoned. This probably stems from the fact that he had an unstable homelife and was often kicked out and didn't have any strong attachments for years.
4. He struggles with interpersonal relationships specifically with idealization and devaluation and alot of these can seem like bpd splitting(viewing others in black and white thinking). This is shown in the fact that he has a really hard time trusting literally anyone and viewing most people as horrible people and a threat even if he has no reason to. He has a hard time coming to terms with people being more moraly gray. One of the exceptions to this and his extreme idealization is in his relationship to Xie Lian. Infact you could even argue that Xie Lian is his fp(favorite person). Hua Cheng spent majority of his life surrounding his whole motivations and personality to Xie Lian. This can be obsessive and even negatively affect his mental health at times. Of course Xie Lian and Hua Cheng end up in a healthy relationship this is not to romanticize fps but merely discuss how Hua Cheng most certainly has an fp and that is Xie Lian.
5. He often suffers from mood swings. Although it is not outwardly stated but you can infer that he does because he can often experience extreme intense unstable emotions. He is shown multiple times to have such intense mood swings that he can hit rock bottom within minutes and then his mood can bounce right back up just as quickly. You can see this all the way back to his childhood to now whatever you call being 800 years old.
6. He very much struggles with controlling his anger. I mean it's stated several times within the series that he is so angry at the world. And rightfully so considering his conditions growing up. I mean he has been shown to set things on fire out of pure anger.  I mean this is all in a fantasy setting in real life us people with bpd don't go around doing this stuff. But it's also shown that his anger issues can be internalized as well.
7. ⚠️Major TW for this all⚠️:
And finally we have his sucidal and self harming behaviors. We are first introduced to his character when he was barely even 10 years old and our first introduction to him was as a child he attempted to fall to his death but was saved by Xie Lian in the first chapter. I mean I feel so bad for this character becuz he really hasn't changed much in the sense you can always tell that he's almost always suicidal. I mean his character has died not once, not twice, but three times in the whole series. He really struggles with this. He also tends to struggle with self harming behaviors. I mean he ripped his own eye out what more evidence do you need for this. (Sorry I had to include this cuz this is one of the main diagnostic criteria for bpd once again sorry for the triggering topic)
Honestly I love these books and I love Hua Cheng's character and it's nice to see he finally got a second chance at a happy life with Xie Lian but he also suffers alot. Of course alot of this is in the fantasy genre so some of this is pretty unrealistic but one of the most realistic things about this is his struggle with mental health and idk I just feel like it's not talked about enough infact alot of these aspects of his character tend to be romanticized. I just wanted to discuss something I noticed in his character because I also have bpd and I noticed the same traits in his character. Anyways I just wanted to share this please do not use this to romanticize these aspects of his character but only to further analyze this part of him. If you noticed any other traits I missed please comment I would love to have a discussion about this.
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evanesce-origin · 2 years
Text
Like A Haunted House
TW: Major character death fakeout (order 66 related) - Cody deals with self loathing and guilt - brief mention of starving (not intentional)
Word count: 2,435
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41102319
Summary: Post-Order 66 Codywan reunion set roughly during Kenobi.
Their eyes met across the marketplace, in the low light of dusk.
It could’ve been some poetic moment, of two worlds that had come crashing down meeting in the middle of a sand-plagued planet where people went to die. It wasn’t poetic. It ended rather swiftly, with Obi-Wan taking off as fast as his feet could carry him.
The chill he got was like coming home to a haunted house. Cold in a way that made you uneasy, in a way that felt hollow. And Obi-Wan had spent every moment since that day trying to avoid that feeling, to never know anything other than the warmth and brightness that had come with knowing Cody before.
Before it had all come crumbling down.
He knew he was being chased. When you spend enough time running, you can just sense when someone’s after you, and with how well he’d gotten to know Cody, there was no ignoring his presence behind him. The years could wear lines into his face, make his bones ache, and chew at his resilience, but they couldn’t make Obi-Wan forget him. Well, the way he was. Obi-Wan supposed he didn’t know him anymore. Not really. So he kept running.
It felt pitiful, really, because he was running from a past ten years overdue to preserve a life of white-knuckled survival, filled with sideways looks, droughts and famines, and spending every moment looking over his shoulder. Instinct was driving him, unrelenting adrenaline pushing him forward through the crowds away from someone he’d been having dreams about running to for ten years.
Was he crying?
It felt like he was crying. Maybe it was the sand he was kicking up, stinging his eyes. Maybe it was the way he felt as if his world was caving in all over again.
Obi-Wan remembered the moment it had all happened. Sometimes it came back in a haze– flashes of falling and pure, crushing betrayal hitting him harder than the surface of the water had. And then he was cold. He’d wake up in a cold sweat those nights, unable to stop himself from whispering ‘Why?’ over and over, shaky and suffocating.
He always ended up curled up, with his back to one of the cavern’s rocky walls. At one point, during a time so distant, it would’ve been Cody’s back. Or his chest, and they would pretend it had never happened the next day. Now there was no one left he’d trust to get anywhere near that close. Now there was no one left at all.
Other times, when he remembered, he saw exactly what happened. Every second played in slow motion– every detail amplified, every feeling overwhelming and almost worse than when it had first happened. He was falling off the side of the cliff again, knowing the rocks above him may crush him, and all he could see was his Commander.
Cody didn’t react. He didn’t look like he felt anything.
Cody remembered screaming, even though he knew his body hadn’t. He swore his throat was sore for days, even weeks, afterwards, as he was trapped inside the body that had killed Obi-Wan Kenobi– or so he thought. He swore it was still sore then, as he ran after Obi-Wan, pushing down the need to yell after him. Of course, screaming his name of all things in the middle of a crowded marketplace was the dumbest possible option, but the feeling was so ingrained in him it welled up until it was choking him.
That scream had been stuck in the bottom of his throat for a decade and he felt it sting every time he caught his own reflection.
Obi cursed himself for being foolish enough to get injured the previous week. It had been a stupid accident, but now his ankle was screaming for relief, any sort of rest, and he was going to be left with no choice. Better to duck away and hide and risk getting caught with others around than waste his stamina running into the middle of nowhere.
If he were to die by Cody, that would be okay– better that than anyone else, but still. It was in his blood to not go down without a fight.
And so he ducked down an alleyway and wedged himself behind a stack of crates since there was nowhere else to go and felt very much like he was cornered prey. The alley was dark– not the best choice, but it wasn’t as if he could back out now. It was too late. A shadow had fallen in front of the entrance to the alley.
How could a shadow be so familiar? Yes, Obi-Wan was crying, passively at that point. He was resigned to his fate. It would be alright, if it was Cody. It was only a matter of time. Obi remembered distantly that he’d made the comment once, that Cody would be the death of him. Of course, it was flirting disguised as banter, because flirting with his Commander would be unprofessional and Obi-Wan was very much unsure of whether or not Cody would even be receptive.
Cody had responded with a snort and, “Promise.”
The shadow stepped closer.
Obi-Wan could make out his features now, and he was almost relieved he’d gotten to see Cody before he died, even if this was how he would die. At least he was alright. At least he had made it out, even if it was going to be at the cost of Obi-Wan’s life.
The crates came crumbling down.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a coward, but he felt sick. He didn’t want to look Cody in the eyes, there was too much weight to it. The last time he had–
“I forgive you.”
With a gasp, the words had left him before he’d even realized he was speaking, though his voice was clogged with unshed tears and unspoken words. Unspoken confessions. He would not look at him.
“What?” Cody’s voice was heavy with rasp, either from disuse or the heavy sand they’d both swallowed.
“I forgive you. I forgave you when it happened. I forgive you now, for what has to happen.” His eyes were closed. He was shaking. He was bracing himself.
He was being lifted.
Cody knew he probably should’ve caught up with the man first, verbally, and explained everything. He definitely should’ve used the apology he’d spent so many years going over and over again in his head to make sure it was perfect, in the idyllic situation where he’d find out Obi-Wan was alive. He should’ve, but he didn’t.
Instead, he caught Obi-Wan up in his arms and squeezed him tight enough there should’ve been more concern about breaking bones. Cody couldn’t let him go. He’d spent too long chasing his shadow, his memories and every trace that even reminded the clone of him. He was thinner than Cody remembered, but he still fit just right in his arms, against his chest, like he was meant to be there.
He was meant to be there. 
Through the rushing of adrenaline that had muffled Cody’s ears, he heard himself apologizing. Over and over, like it was the only mantra he could repeat, he was asking for forgiveness that he didn’t deserve. They were sinking to the ground.
Obi-Wan thanked everything in the universe that the alley seemed to be a poorer choice than he thought for being safe amongst the public, because they spent an unknown amount of time on the sandy ground, mumbling back and forth, “I’m sorry,” and “I forgive you.” And if he was honest, he was still waiting for it.
For the sting of betrayal all over again. A blaster, a dagger, poison. Something. Anything. It was too good to be true, otherwise, but even this felt too good to be true. He was here and that coldness had left his eyes. They were warm, like he remembered. He was home. “What happened? How did you– where did you go?” Cody asked, finally leaning back and fumbling his hands forward to cup Obi-Wan’s jaw, examining his face as if trying to make sure he was real.
“The water. I fell in the water and uhm,” his voice cracked, “I just swam. When I came to.”
Cody’s face crumpled at that and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Obi-Wan’s chest like a child begging for mercy. Again, his words were muffled, this time by Obi’s cloak. “I’m sorry.”
Obi-Wan reached up and cradled the back of Cody’s head and shoulders, holding him close as he screwed up his eyes. They could have a few more moments, at least, before Obi-Wan insisted on getting somewhere much safer. They deserved a few more moments, after everything.
Eventually, though, Obi-Wan had to pull away and bring Cody’s attention to their situation. The way Cody’s face crumpled in the face of perceived rejection nearly shattered his heart all over again, and Obi was quick to mumble, “We need to get somewhere safe. I need you to be safe.”
They recollected themselves in silence. The heat of the day had finally broken and there was a crisp, cool breeze blowing past that nearly threatened to push his hood off his head. Cody had fumbled a piece of cloth back into place over the lower half of his face, an obvious makeshift disguise. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been surprised if there were still people out looking for Cody, for some reason or another.
Maybe Cody followed Obi-Wan a little too closely, but he didn’t care. There was no way he would let them get separated again, unless Obi-Wan asked him to leave. His eyes stung at the thought. From there, though, it was easy to catch on, “You’re limping.” He said.
“Yes. I’m alright, it was a small accident.”
“And I just chased you across half of Tatooine and made it worse.”
There was a hollowness to Cody’s voice that Obi-Wan swore he would fight back with his bare hands if he had to. “Let me help you, at least. Please.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t even think to protest as Cody slid one of his arms over his shoulder and helped him limp across the shifting sand dunes. There was a warm ache in his chest at a situation so familiar. It was almost comforting, to be stumbling and nearly falling down the mounds of sand, with Cody there to catch him at every little slip and shift. He leaned into him unabashedly.
When they finally made it to Obi-Wan’s cave, he felt Cody tense and the alarm was palpable. “You live out here, by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Who checks in on you?”
The silence was deafening. Cody stared and stared at him. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi master, lovable smartass, had no one checking on him. Right. Everyone thought he was dead. He would’ve been dead.
It was his fault, it was his fault, it was his fault. 
Devastation hit like a blaster to the chest and they both wondered when it would end. The unspoken realization had settled on both of them at the same time– Obi-Wan knew that he had realized why this was all there was to his life, and yet, as he’d said, Obi-Wan had already forgiven him. It seemed that Cody would never forgive himself. “Let me help you. Please.” That hollowness was still there, persistent, and Obi never thought he’d find the hint of desperation comforting. At least it was something else.
So, instead of protesting like he would on any other occasion, before, he nodded. Cody helped him lower himself to sit on his cot and stretch out the leg with his injured ankle. Obi-Wan handed him a medical kit that he’d scrapped together for emergencies, and though his ankle didn’t count as an emergency in his eyes, Cody’s expression certainly did. 
Cody knelt with Obi-Wan’s injured ankle propped on his thighs with laser focus on being as careful as possible. He’d spend the rest of his life patching Obi-Wan back up and protecting him, if Obi-Wan would let him. He’d do it until his body broke and there was nowhere left to go, and if Obi wanted to throw him out afterwards, that was fine by him. He’d spend the rest of his life asking for forgiveness he didn’t want to accept. Forgiveness he already had. He’d earn it, he swore he would.
His hands were shaky, yet tender, as he lined a makeshift splint up with Obi-Wan’s ankle and began wrapping it in gauze. When Obi-Wan sucked a sharp hiss of breath between his teeth, Cody mumbled apologies mixed with his own lazy rolling tears. His eyes were so swollen there wasn’t much crying left to do anymore, but they came forth anyway as he felt the urge to grovel at Obi-Wan’s feet. He finished with a piece of adhesive, but couldn’t stop rubbing his thumb over the spot where the gauze was fastened. Over and over, like it could heal him. Like it would fix the acrid taste in his mouth as a result of his own actions.
He was watching Obi-Wan fall again. He was screaming. He wasn’t screaming.
Obi-Wan leaned forward and reached out a hand, much more worn than they had been the last time the pair had met. His palm met Cody’s jaw with a warmth and softness that overwhelmed him, Obi-Wan’s thumb stroking over his tear-stained cheekbones. “You will have to forgive yourself, one day. I’ll tell you again and again, I already have.”
“How could you forgive me? For what I did? Forgiveness shouldn’t have even occurred in your mind, not for a second.”
Obi smiled, humorless, but affectionate. “I don’t think I was ever capable of doing anything else.”
Conversation died once again as they both mulled over all of the words they’d planned to say. Sentences that had been plotted for six years, apologies for five, and confessions since they’d met, never came forth. Instead, Obi-Wan dropped his hand to Cody’s shoulder and leaned forward. “Stay. Rest. With me. I don’t–” He swallowed. “I can’t lose you again.”
Selfishly, Cody couldn’t pass up the invitation, even though every bone in his body was telling him to. You don’t deserve to stay. You don’t deserve, it’s all your fault you don’t–
Obi-Wan pulled him down onto the tiny, thin cot that barely lasted  through the last winter, Cody’s head on his chest, his hips between his thighs. “Thank you for making it back to me.” Cody could hear his heartbeat and the rumble of his voice in his chest as he spoke.
He was alive. He was home. 
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