#i don't want to feel debilitated or weak or not enough. ever again. so i need a code of discipline

[bongsavior]

Lol if i had a nickel for every time i loved someone that either didn't love me back or fell out of love with me i'd be the richest man alive.

[aberooski]

Can you imagine if Syrus' friends are just as confused as the audience regarding the fact that Syrus never snapped or became evil?

Imagine them being like, "Are you sure you don't want to go apeshit now?" quite a lot of times and Syrus always shrugging like, "Nah, not right now."

Even Zane would be a bit on the edge by the time Syrus is in charge of his recovery.

Honestly Syrus had every right to snap at some point over Zane's treatment of him. Zane treated him so bad for so long that he suffers debilitating anxiety and extremely low self-esteem and self worth. But he never held a single thing against Zane. Honestly no one did for more than a single episode for the purpose of the episodic narrative.

Syrus looks up to Zane so much that he believes everything Zane says about him is right and that he has every right to treat him as poorly as he does. He adores his brother, he loves him and idolizes him and tries so hard to make him proud and after meeting Jaden and start to gain a little more confidence and learn to believe in himself, try to prove Zane wrong.

But no matter what people still see him as being in Zane's shadow. They tackle that in episode 4 season 2: "Sad But Truesdale" one of my favorite episodes btw lol which is really the only time we see him even remotely snap or get confrontational and stand up for himself, or at least it's the first time we see that.

But the thing is, at that point he and Zane have.... sort of made amends, namely Zane telling Sy he proved him wrong about saying Sy didn't belong at Duel Academy and saying he loves him before sacrificing himself to protect him from Camula back in episode 32, but being in season 2, Zane is about to go dark himself. which therein lies the reignited of the big issue.

Because after all of that progress they made, when Zane goes dark he reverts back to not caring about Syrus but even worse than before. Even back in season 1 they try to give you hints that he might actually care about Syrus a little bit not that I believe it for a second, but now he truly doesn't care at all. Not just not caring about Syrus but not caring about anyone. But it really comes to a head in episode 95, when Syrus duels Zane to try and remind him of who he used to be, but also to prove to Zane that he's strong enough to face him and strong enough to be a true duelist. Which only serves to land him in the hospital with Zane just writing him off as weak and just as worthless and weak as he had always said he was before. Just pure emotional whiplash for Sy to deal with after the progress they started making in season 1. I literally wrote an entire one shot about it that episode fucks me up so much and makes me so mad and upset But then there's even more whiplash in season 3 because Zane comes back and protects him in Dark World and helps him work through his conflicting feelings about Jaden, and then after basically bestowing Sy unto Jay:

"You can’t leave Syrus! 😢 He needs a big brother! 😭"

"He's got one. 😌"

LITERALLY SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP EVERYWHERE STOP I CAN'T

and telling Syrus he's proud of him he says literally nothing to Sy in the sub and I hate that just dies right in front of him.

Boom. More trauma.

And then they back pedal on his death and he's alive again in season 4 and Sy dedicates so much time and effort and attention and love hinto being his caretaker. When he has every right not to. Syrus is too good to be Zane's brother. Zane doesn't deserve him.

I know I've been blabbing on here and, but listen Sy's my favorite ever I have a lot to say akaksk 😂 Syrus had every right to snap at some point, that's my whole point, and the whole point of this whole ask I'm sorry for the whole dissertation happening here akksksk

Syrus needed to have his

Moment at some point. He deserved to get frustrated with Zane, to hold him accountable for everything he said and did to him. I hate that no one ever held anything against Zane and just gave him a pass for his abusive behavior. Syrus can if he wants to, that's his right and his choice but the others shouldn't have allowed it to continue happening and not call him out on it more than the one time Jay did in episode 8 and then just dropped it.

I know if I were his friend I would be very surprised he hadn't snapped ever. I think they all should be surprised, but also at the same time it's just not the type of person Sy is. He gets into arguments and is confrontational with people sometimes it's Hassleberry 9 times out of 10 lol but generally speaking he's very timid and is just content with his situation because Zane has beaten him down so much over the years. If anything they would be more surprised if he did snap or go dark, but I think if he did it would open their eyes to how they contributed to the problem by not actually holding Zane accountable for his actions.

But for the sake of this scenario, I think they might even encourage him to just let loose because holding all that stuff in isn't healthy, but he'd say no even though he definitely would want to deep down.

A real:

Kind of moment if you will. That's what they'd be trying to get him to do, but Syrus not allowing himself to let those feelings out and just having them pile up and fester while putting on the facade that he's okay and isn't angry about everything Zane put him through... yeah I think everyone should be worried and surprised that he hasn't snapped at that point and Zane should be very nervous about Sy taking the role as his caretaker. Because when he finally does snap? All I can say is yikes and good luck because when he finally does allow himself to snap in this scenario I think he would reach a really low spot because he's already there. He would just sink even lower.

They're gonna need all hands on deck to bring him back from that eruption of emotion and pain. Because letting the floodgates open to release that much hurt, I can tell you, not for the same reasons but from being hurt by people before, it's extremely difficult to close those gates again.

And one last point to that end, you know who I think would be integral to saving Sy from that? Chazz. Because he also has horrible and intense older sibling trauma and pain that he's trying to heal from himself, and it's not even all that different from his in some ways. He can understand Syrus's feelings better than anyone, and really sympathize with him and having someone who can even remotely understand his hurt would help Sy so much when he finally does snap. It would be double special too because they never really mixed all that well, but as shitty of a thing to relate to is, this they have in common. And I'd love to see them not like... trauma bond, but trauma bond if you know what I mean aksksk like kinda actually be friends. Because Jaden loves his bestie, but he and the others could only help so much because they know what he's been through, but don't really understand.

Chazz does.

Me currently typing this out:

[distractedpebble]

Turns out I can't take any birth control with estrogen because I got a migraine with aura so bad I couldn't see out of my left eye. I don't want to take Depo anymore because of the side effects. I tried an IUD but the insertion was one of the most painful things I've ever felt and my body rejected it. I don't want to try Nexplanon because I don't want an implant that I can't remove myself (another reason that I don't want Depo anymore).

I'm not on birth control for that reason, I'm on it because I possibly have endometriosis. And when I talked to my OB about getting diagnosed, she basically hand-waved it away and mentioned that we can go forward assuming I have it but fighting with insurance is tough. That was about 6 months ago. The nurse I talked to last week looked at me like she was confused when I said that because she said there's no reason with all my symptoms that insurance should deny letting me have the procedure to diagnose it.

My next appointment isn't for over a month, but now I need to deal with all the other stuff they didn't tell me about, including all the horrendous side effects of coming off the Depo shot. Not once did they tell me that I could get violently nauseous, have more migraines than usual, have hot flashes, feel weak, mood swings, and more.

And on top of that, I don't know when my periods will start again. It could be over a year from now but it could be this month, or in 6 months. And I don't know if I'm mentally prepared enough to deal with that physical pain again. The whole reason I tried the Depo shot to begin with was because in June of 2022 I almost had a mental breakdown because I was in so much pain so I figured it was time to try something.

I don't know, I guess I'm just pissed at the fact that I was never told side effects, I'm basically out of options, and I just feel like this is going to be an uphill battle to get any kind of help at all.

Oh and to add to all of this, I also just found out that endometriosis doesn't even meet the requirements to be a "disability," despite the fact that if that is what I have, it's literally debilitating for me, not only when I don't have my period but in between those times as well.

[dalishthunder]

Honor and Glory I Have Enough Of (p4, final part)

You'd been staring at him for a while now, half empty wine glass perched between your fingers, cheeks flushed a bit from the drink. The intensity of it was heavy on him, and he would have been flattered if not for the fact that he was pretty sure you were fucking Xelzaz. He didn't have any proof. Yet. But he was not looking to be your third, and he had been about to say as much when you spoke.

"I think I've got it."

"And what, pray tell, have you got? Certainly not any common sense." Nebarra snapped back.

You just gave a disgusted sigh and a roll of the eyes, taking a long drink from your glass. "No. I mean, yes. I mean, what I'm trying to say is you." You'd gestured vaguely in his direction.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I'm not deaf, you know."

"Well whatever you are, you're not helping your case. Have you already reached your limit? Two glasses of Nord wine?"

You got up and moved next to him. "Just... listen for a minute, yeah?"

"You've got fifty eight seconds left."

Though he couldn't feel your hand through his armor, the gesture of you placing it on his arm was.... Your eyes had locked with his and you gave him a half smile.

"Neb. Nebby. Nebbadiah. I think I've figured something out about you."

Nebarra froze, swallowing down something he couldn't quite place. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He'd replied blandly, very, very glad you couldn't see his face.

"I think you pretend to not care because caring can hurt." You'd pressed your finger to his breastplate, voice low. "But you do. You care deeply. You're just really good at hiding it because caring can be so, so painful, so you run from it as far as you can. But you do."

His breath had caught in his chest, heat blossoming on his cheeks as he looked down into your eyes. He... he couldn't dignify that with a response. No. You were wrong.

"But I want you to know that I see the strength that those bonds give you.... It's not a weakness to care."

It's not a weakness to care.

And that's where you were wrong.

Because you dealt with jarrin root and made the most debilitating and deadly of poisons like it was some sort of stupid game. Because he was about to do one of the dumbest things he had ever done in his life.

He dripped a bit of the thick, condensed liquid onto his cut.

But it was worth the risk if it meant bringing you back.... And if he was wrong, well then, one less dumb, son of a slek nebarra in the world.

"Are you MAD?!"

"Yeah, all the damn time." Nebarra snickered at his own joke as he watched and waited, within seconds his flesh began to knit back together and he let out the breath he'd been holding in. "Oh thank Auri-El."

Gariil smacked him in the shoulder. "Do you know how dumb that stunt was?"

"A true, patented, Excellent Nebarra Idea. You can't see it, but I'm winking under my helmet." Nebarra couldn't help the way the corners of his lips twitched into a faint smile at the exasperated sigh from his friend.

He positioned your head in his lap, the pad of his thumb brushing against your lips before he tilted your chin and poured the potion down your throat. "Auri-El, please...."

Slowly, color began to fill your cheeks again, the bruised, blotchy purple beginning to fade. You didn't wake up, but at least he knew the potion was working, so even though he rather enjoyed the weight of your head on his thigh, your warm skin against his scarred hands reminded him that you were here, alive with him, he placed you in your bedroll and just sat next to you.

Gariil finished organizing everything they'd removed from your pack, moving to take a seat by the fire. "You know...."

Nebarra's skin prickled, bracing himself for the lecture that he knew was coming.

"As long as you only keep things casual, I don't think anyone will fault you."

"Stupid is a bad look on you." He knew Gariil was trying to be supportive in his own way, and he... begrudgingly appreciated it, but it didn't change the facts.

It just... wouldn't ever work between the two of you.

Not that he wanted it to work per se.

But even if he did. Which he didn't, but if he did... it just wouldn't work.

... Simple as that.

He rummaged through some of the books from inside your pack, settling on one of many unmarked leather bound book. Maybe it was Inigo the Brave, he'd actually kind of been wanting to read that for a little while. The altmer flipped open to a random page, eyes catching on a diagram of a thistle flower, each part meticulously labeled with what it could be used for.

Oh... your alchemy notes.

That would have been useful about an hour ago.

Nebarra turned the page, another diagram, this time of fly amanita, mellow colors demarcating the white spots on the cap all through its life cycle. What each bit was useful for, the potency of it all. It was... lovely. He hadn't known that you dabbled with such activities. The next page was filled with schematics for your current armor. Dragon scales, a list of potential different ways of shaping and forming it.Some of it crossed out, others circled or underlined. A lot of question marks. A list of potential enchantments to put on it. He huffed out a soft chuckle.

Some people find me enchanting.

Sure, maybe it had been a corny joke, but Nebarra supposed he knew it firsthand.

Enchanting.

He traced the line work with his finger for a moment. Sometimes you made things look so effortless.... It was a good reminder that you really were just... a person.

I'm not strong enough.

You'd whispered that to him not too long ago. He had no idea what that made him then.

And as angry with you as he wanted to be, he couldn't muster the same virulent hatred he had for so, so many others. Even if you had crossed him..

He flipped through a few more pages, breath hitching in his throat as he took it in, book clutched just a bit too tightly in his grasp. Was that... was that him?

Sitting on a boulder, staring off into the distance, relaxed. Golden armor contrasting with the light blue sky. Something about it felt so peaceful and soft, and a weight settled in his chest.

It's not a weakness to care.

Then why did he feel so small?

A few scribbles adorned the other page, most of the words crossed out too much to be legible, but with the way everything was laid out, it almost seemed like... a poem.

He could just make out, Oh, Old Soldier how-

Why was it crossed out?

Why was he trembling.

Nebarra snapped the book shut, eyes falling to your face. He wasn't going to be a voyeur. You gave him his space... he wasn't going to pry any more than you were.

Placing the book back on the pile, putting another one over it and standing up. "I'm getting some fresh air."

"We're outside." Gariil snarked.

The old soldier didn't respond as he shoved his hands back into his gauntlets and wandered off into the night. The cold was bracing, but despite it gnawing, it didn't sink into his bones like it normally did.

It was all about the money.

He reminded himself.

He was here for the money.

There was no reason to make it more complicated than that.

His heart clenched.

It's not a weakness to care.

But that's where you were wrong.

He'd almost lost you.

An arrow ripping through Camia's eye, laughter dying in her throat as she crumpled.

He wondered if that young soldier's sweetheart still thought about their love. An altmer with a sweetheart. How... how damn silly.

How many people had he lost now?

Not for the first time, he wondered if there was a way to carve his heart out.

But the softness of your drawing....

Oh, Old Soldier how....

How what?

Nebarra paced the ground, letting the rhythmic sound of the waves ground him.

Oh, Old Soldier how... how far you have fallen.

That was almost definitely NOT what you'd written... but it echoed in his head nonetheless.

He sighed, shaking it out and casting up a glance at the moons. An aurora passing overhead and he paused. It really was beautiful up here in the boondocks.

Everything would work out....

It would be just his luck for you to wake up before him and be quizzed by Gariil about dumb shit.

So he made his way back, breaths deep and even finally.

"You okay?" Gariil looked up from the fire.

Nebarra cleared his throat, "Yeah."

If his friend noticed how small and hoarse his voice was, felt, he didn't remark on it.

And as Nebarra sat outside the tent in a silent vigil, he heard the telltale signs of you shifting; The sound of your breath heavier. He turned back to look at you, relief flooding his chest as he saw you begin to sit up. You blinked blearily, wincing as your brain caught up with your body.

"Well don't you look like a skeever's nest."

You blinked again, eyes focusing on him, at first the hints of a dry smile on your face before it fell, the events of last night probably reminding you again that he was dangerous.

Good... good. It was better this way.

No, it wasn't.

"Oh thanks, Neb, for dragging me out of that ruin and saving my life." He drawled. "I'm ever so grateful, whatever would I do without you?"

You let out a soft snort, and his heart fluttered. "Thanks, but... why? Why would you save me after crossing you like that?"

"Consider it payback for that potion. Don't try to stop my plans in the future. I might not be so charitable next time." Maybe.... Definitely not.... He was a hardened war veteran who would follow you to the ends of Nirn and back.

Oh, Old Soldier....

You just nodded, eyes so full of a deep, dark sadness. "Where does that leave us?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Well... I mean, you no longer owe me a life debt or anything."

Was that really the only reason you thought he stuck around?

"I feel like I've saved your ass enough times over these past ten months to have covered that already. This just makes it official."

"O-oh... yeah." There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes, and he felt his stomach twist itself in knots. "I guess that's fair."

He wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you, ask you how dumb you could be to think that he was going anywhere. But instead he just shrugged, turning his face to the fire. "Well with all of that out of the way, we can continue."

"Wait... you still want-"

"Somebody's gotta pull your dumb ass out of trouble." He grumbled halfheartedly. "And we make a fair share of coin."

You chuckled, "Fair enough."

He poked at the fire, and even though there was plenty of wood on it, Nebarra stood. "Now that that's all sorted, I'm going to go chop some more wood for the fire."

"Let me help you with that." You went to stand up, and immediately he shot you a glare.

"Sit. You're still recovering."

Your eyes went wide, and you immediately complied, mumbling out a quick, "Yes, sir."

Something in him stirred at that; very, very hungry.

But he pushed those thoughts to the side. For now.

Oh, Old Soldier....

Oh, he most assuredly would be visiting those thoughts again though. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

Yes, sir.

He should probably just go walk into the frigid sea. Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.

Nebarra made his way to the outskirts of camp to a fallen tree, taking the axe that you always made him keep in his pack, and hacking away.

After a few moments, he could pick up Gariil's voice, and he cast a glance over his shoulder to see that he had sat next to you.

Abort mission. Abort mission. Abort-

Yes, sir.

No, he absolutely needed something mind numbing.

"Good to see you awake. We were worried for a bit there."

"Oh, thanks. I guess I did get hit pretty hard."

There was some idle chatter that was drowned out by the sounds of the axe biting into the wood.

And then his ears perked up, "You know, Cor- Nebarra is one of the most fiercely loyal people I've ever met once he warms up to you. Don't take that for granted."

"Yeah... I promise to do my best to keep him safe... ish."

"Good."

Your voice went soft and it took a lot of straining to make out what you said next. "I actually consider him one of my closest companions. I'd be lost without him..." Damn right you would. "... And I still have no idea what he looks like under that helmet."

"Ugly. Count yourself lucky."

You laughed, and Nebarra whipped around to give him the middle finger. Gariil just gave him a cheeky smile.

But he had to admit, the sound of your laughter was comforting. And while he wasn't necessarily sure he had his friend's approval if he ever did want to... pursue something with you, it was good to see the two of you getting along.

Nebarra looked up at the sky for a moment, and despite the churning in his gut, he hadn't felt this at peace in a long, long time.

[paperboy-pb]

One of the big themes I want to emphasize in PB is disability acceptance.

As "PAPERBOY" progresses, I'm gonna be showing off how much it hurts to live in a world without it-- having people not accept you solely because of conditions you can only help so much is horrible. And we all deserve to be accepted as we are by the people around us.

But at the same time, you shouldn't feel obligated to love every part of your disability either. Self-acceptance doesn't come naturally to everyone. And who knows, maybe your disability really does get in the way sometimes!

Amelia, Aza, Rudy, etc. don't really mind their situations. They're just used to it, and it barely bothers them, if at all. But maybe you're not like them!

Maybe you're like Wilbur & his Blindness, where your disability is taking away things you loved, leaving you to grieve.

Or maybe you're like Linus & his Epilepsy, where you've found a way to make life work for you but still think it's annoying sometimes.

Maybe you're like Karl & his Down Syndrome; it's not something that you can hide, but sometimes, you wish you could. It'd be nice to blend in with everyone else for a second, you know?

Or maybe you're like Matthew & his health conditions, and you've faced a lifetime of abuse for being born that way. And you're having a hard time accepting yourself as a result.

Or maybe you're like me & only recently got diagnosed with something. And you don't know how to handle it.

...

I got 4, if you're wondering. Autism. Asthma. MDD. But a while back, I found out that I've been suffering PTSD, too. And I didn't take it well. Honestly, I'm still not.

I don't know if it ever truly goes away, and I don't want to live with it. I'm not going anywhere, of course. But I've worked hard enough, man, give me a break! Am I supposed to just be okay knowing that I'm gonna keep having flashbacks & nightmares over stupid shit nobody understands? Having a TV in my head that constantly loops home videos I never wanted to see again?

It's not fair. I'm not even 20. I shouldn't have such dark, smudged skin under my eyes.

I revel in being autistic. I've made it work for me, and in my case, I find almost no downsides. And I don't really mind my Asthma anymore. I've had it pretty much my whole life now, & I'm kinda just used to it. Same thing with Depression, although I'm obviously not happy to have that one, either.

With PTSD though, it's newer. I've only had symptoms for a few years, and I've only known what was wrong for one. And I have to worry.

Is something gonna set it off? What do I do when it acts up? I'm interested in someone-- is my PTSD gonna be too much for them to handle? I feel weak, and if anything, I'm mad at me for getting traumatized in the first place!

I know I was a kid & that the trauma was genuinely bad, but... I'm a bit of a New York hard-ass. I'm supposed to be tougher than this, man! I was supposed to come out on top, brush it off & overcome it like I'm the shit.

A life with something as debilitating as PTSD is not what I had in mind. It's like... an injury, almost. You look at the damage and go, "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

And I know I have to learn to accept life with PTSD one day. Because if I don't accept myself, I'm gonna be fighting myself & making it worse as hell. But I don't like how it holds me back in life. Or the toll it's taken on my body. And y'know what, we disabled people can be mad about that shit!

Why shouldn't we?

...

We're allowed to be hurt over it. We're allowed to be angry, annoyed, displeased, or whatever else we feel about it.

Getting back to Paperboy, we already know that Matthew struggles with being a disabled kid because he's been brought up to believe that being so is synonymous with worthlessness & inferiority. Not only that, but it's been a lot of bad people's "excuse" for targeting him. So... he hates it.

And that's okay for now. It's his to think about. Not anybody else's.

But he's not going to stay there, either. Because if you wanna live your life to the fullest, you're gonna need to live *with* disability. Because it is a part of life. Like it or not. And one day, he'll find a way to live with that.

If you notice anybody struggling with internalized ableism, or disability grief, or even just frustration... help them, but don't push them into acceptance too hard, either. It's a process.

Trust the process.

[slepyfibre]

Shattered Dream uwu

Angsty writing under the cut lol

It’s... dialogue...

-----

SHATTERED DREAM

"Is this what you wanted? In your sick, deranged mind, nothing mattered more than your own selfish desires."

"You might not have chosen to become this, but look at you. You're doing the very thing you hated so much. Are you satisfied? Dream's too nice to say anything. He was still cared so much about you, even after you've treated him like shit. Treated me like shit."

NIGHTMARE

"Shut the fuck up! You don't understand, Dream never did! He never could!"

"You- you get out of him!"

SHATTERED DREAM

"Wouldn't you just love that? Pity, but I am him. You should understand. I'm the Dream that resents you. The Dream who cares enough to hate what you've done to him. Decades of torment, oh how you reveled in that! Speaking those unkind words, blaming him for the things he had no control over, pressing into his guilt, even though you knew how it broke him inside."

"He's suppressed me long enough, or should I say, I am finally showing you how I truly feel? I hate you, I hate you, I hate- hate youIhateyouIhateyou- heheheeheh! I hate you so much!"

NIGHTMARE

"You're not Dream, you disgusting freak. You can never be him. He… he would never act like this."

SHATTERED DREAM

"The truth is right in front of you. Eating the apple… maybe I did want to understand. But it's funny, isn't it? Now you understand how I feel. Hahah… how it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, Nightmare, why does it hurt so much? Hahah!! The pain it's so excruciating, I just want to rip my own soul out!"

NIGHTMARE

"You're not supposed to give in… so easily. You've always been the stronger one, haven't you?"

SHATTERED DREAM

"Pathetic, pathetic! This is no time for sappy words, I did it for you! I did it for you!"

NIGHTMARE

"Shut up, SHUT the fuck up! I'm not speaking to you!"

"You've always been the stronger one. You were always able do what I couldn't. Surely… I thought you could handle everything. I lost because had to. You're different. You're supposed to be different! Only a WEAKLING gives up like this. You’re NOT someone that gives up easily!"

SHATTERED DREAM

"Stop it, stop it with your empty words. What do you know about me? I am tired of your lies. People cannot change overnight. Oh, so you feel guilty all of a sudden? Fat chance. There's no way. No way."

"Just… I only wanted one thing. But I understand now that I'll never have it."

NIGHTMARE

"How did I think you could handle everything…? I suppose really am a fool. I am a fool and you're an idiot. What do you think this accomplishes? Nothing. You only lose. You know that this is irreversible. What are you so desperate for? WHY? I NEVER WANTED THIS FOR YOU!"

SHATTERED DREAM

"You want to know what I wanted the most?"

"I wanted you to accept me. I wanted the old days to return. Selfish, I know. But I never stopped hoping, that you would turn from your ways, even if I already knew it was impossible. I knew anchoring my hopes on something so inconceivable would only lead me to ruin. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't, I felt so incredibly hollow, but I never should have! What a failure as a guardian! Laugh at me, humiliate me! You've done it so many times before. It's all my fault!"

"Haha… I knew… it was impossible, unless I sacrificed everything."

"So I did what I had to."

NIGHTMARE

"How… how the fuck did you ever think eating the black apple would SOLVE ANYTHING?"

SHATTERED DREAM

"I thought that if I understood your pain, surely… you would accept me."

"I had nothing to lose. My life is a living hell. I distract myself with much, but the heaviness never leaves. Every time I see you, I only see regret, do you know how debilitating that is?"

"If only this, if only that, if only you hadn't eaten that apple! If only you hadn't been so weak!"

NIGHTMARE

"How dare… I'll never… I'll never be weak like that again. Don't you understand? IF I NEVER DID WHAT I DID, WE'D BE DEAD. I DID IT TO SAVE US BOTH, I DIDN'T WANT TO DIE, AND YOU DIDN'T DESERVE TO!"

SHATTERED DREAM

"You… I…"

"NO… I just… I hated myself. If I ate the black apple like you did, you would be happy. I would be like you. That's what I thought. So why… do you look at me like that? S-stop it!"

"I made the right choice. I… I can't regret this now. But it hurts, it hurts… brother it hurts so much…"

NIGHTMARE

"Come on… y-you can't do this to me…"

SHATTERED DREAM

"I'm so sorry… I s-shouldn't-"

NIGHTMARE

"Wait!"

SHATTERED DREAM

"D-don't worry, you'll never have to see me again."

[Dream leaves. Nightmare is left alone.]

[cherry-gemz]

Healing Hands: Chapter One

Summary: You find yourself abroad in London as the Chief of Pediatrics. Everything has been running smoothly until you are faced with an undiagnosed case and the doctor assigned is anything but willing to face defeat. Will you be able treat the child's unknown disease in time, along while facing uncharted waters with love in the workplace?

Parings: Henry Cavill {Dr. Cavill} x Y/N {F!Reader}

Rating: Overall series 18+ only, Chapter is PG

Word count: 2200 +/-

Tags:  @evansamericanass @meowpurrbooks​ @lilithpaijiee @pterodactylterrace 

A/N: Trying something new at writing Henry fanfic. IDK if it’s any good, but either way wanted to start writing. LMK if you're interested, comments and tags welcomed! 💜

P.S. I am no means in any medical field or sorts, so if I get something incorrect on a term or process, bear with me xo.

----------------------------------------------------

You knew that it was a gamble moving to the UK for the Chief of Pediatrics position. But it was time for a change. You needed to leave Eugene, Oregon. Start fresh. There was too much pain there and you had to get away. So when your cousin, who was a nurse from Brighton informed you that there was a need at her hospital for the highly-visible role, you thought why the hell not? You'd score a free round-trip to England of anything and actually see some family you've never met if it didn't pan out. 

Little did you know that you'd fall in love with London: the weather, the people, the imagery of it all. Oregon weather wasn't all too different, so you acclimated well. It had been a few months of you settling in: understanding more of the language barriers despite it still being English. Knackered, cuppa, trollied. 

That is until you had a run in with the division chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Cavill. The staff adored the renowned and painstakingly handsome doctor. And while you could appreciate the view as well, you never were on the same page with his ideals. His defiant behavior of undermining your direction of the unit was becoming a thorn in your side. 

But this time, this time you'd had enough. He mentioned to a patient's parents, while with the speciality case, the hospital could take on their son's situation as priority and receive around the clock care. You threw down the patient's file on your desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was a lost cause, you had looked into the patient ever since you started the role.

The child seemed perfectly healthy and lab tests may show no signs of illness. But the chronic pain and fatigue were unexplainable. You empathized, but the poor child has undergone so many tests that at this point it was about providing facts to the parents. And right now, there was no cause of alarm. You weren’t a Dr. House, this wasn’t television. You didn't have the staff to dive into any research or clinical studies. You had a hospital to run, employees to pay, other lives needed saving. 

You picked up the phone to the case nurse on the pediatric floor. 

"Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Y/LN. Can you please remind Dr. Cavill of our 5pm? He's late. Thank you." 

Slowly hanging up on the phone, you turn back to the patient's file. The boy, Jon Foulger, was just shy of his ninth birthday. No positive results for Lupus or Guillain-Barré syndrome. But This case had been bothering you, poor Jon had been in the hospital for three months and still no progress on a diagnosis. While you were never known to give up on a patient, you knew giving false hope to the parents was detrimental not only to the family, but to the same of the hospital's integrity. You were in a high esteemed role now, you knew that you had to discuss further with Henry on his actions. 

Twenty more minutes passed by and you checked your watch. Fuming, you stood up from your desk and headed down to the pediatric floor by the lift. 

As you briskly walk down the hall corridors you can't wait to give Cavill a piece of your mind. You turn the corner and ram right into a brick wall, or so you thought.  Your hands instinctively pick up and see placed on the doctor's firm chest. You immediately flush and lose composure. 

You knew he was a good-looking man, but this up close and personal was a whole other level. His dark hair and curls were fluffy and good enough to touch. His piercing steel blue eyes looked at yours and made immediate contact. His bone structure made the Michaelangelo's David blush. 

"My apologies, Dr. Y/LN. Didn't see you there," his voice was like butter. 

You straightened out your white coat, "Ahem, yes. Well I seemed to have been lost in thought. My apologies as well."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, almost an hour ago…" you shifted your weight to stand a bit taller. He towered over you with his muscular frame and height. 

"Patient...Jon Foulger. We must discuss the repercussions of your current actions."

"Jon-Jon," he replied stoic. 

"Excuse me?"

"He likes to be called Jon-Jon."

"Well yes, let's go to my office and discuss further, please Dr. Cavill."

"As you wish," he replied and pivoted his heel to the nearby lift.

The rise up to the 12th floor was a quiet one, awkward overall as you knew you had to give a coaching and hated the notion. You missed practicing medicine; while you enjoyed the administration of your position, the thrill of helping others and using your hands were erased with cases of employee performance reviews, reports, budgets. 

He coughed into his fist and then held his strong hands in place in a clasp. 

He finally broke the silence, "Enjoying London?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Have you had any time to take a holiday?"

"Um, no. Been too busy."

"It might do you some good," he replies as he looks to check his watch. 

You huff, "Somewhere you need to be, Doctor?"

"No, just checking the time."

His arrogance irritated you and now you weren't feeling as badly to give him his coaching. 

The lift opened as you arrived at the floor and he held out the door for you to exit first. You nod and walk to your office, your kitten heels clicked on the hospital's linoleum floor and the sound echoed through your ears. 

As you both enter your office you stride quickly to your desk to assume dominance of the room. 

Henry stood near the doorway, admiring your photos and certificates on the wall. 

"I knew you were American, but Stanford Medical? Interesting, thought you were from Oregon. When will you be returning?" You can't read him if that was a compliment or sarcasm. 

"Dr. Cavill, would you be so kind to shut the door," you state firmly and sit down, ignoring his comment about your return to the states.

His brow peaks and he nods, turning to close the door. 

"Please, have a seat," you say. 

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he replies and you know this is going to be a difficult conversation. 

"Well this will only take a moment then. Your recent behavior with the Foulger family, while I commend you for your dedication, has been slight askew with the hospital's protocols."

"Is that so?" His voice dropped and his brow arched. "In what way, Dr. Y/LN?"

You cough as the drawl of his mouth turns upward and you can swear there's a smug smirk across his face. 

"Well...for one...you've promised around the care of the child. Now simply put, we've exhausted all efforts for a diagnosis and until Jon...Jon-Jon…shows any new symptoms, we are at liberty to provide him comfort care for the remainder of the evening, but he will need to be discharged in the morning. We've exhausted him enough with MRIs, blood tests. I'm at a rock in a hard place, Dr. Cavill."

"The rock or the hard place where you give up on a child's well-being simply because you haven't thought to see him as a person? Rather as a number on your statistical analysis of how functioning this hospital is?"

His eyes pierce through you and make your knees grow weak. The nurse staff usually talks about him being a cuddly bear, always making the children laugh and smile. But this man before you, why he's no cuddly bear. He was a beast of a man. A grizzly in fact. 

"Now see here, I will let you know that this case is very important to me. All the children are. But what you fail to see is that for whatever reason you've gravitated to this particular case, you're chasing something that doesn't exist." 

His broad shoulders and strong neck tense at your words. He blinks methodically, as if he's scoping out his prey. No, don't let his charm and rugged good looks distract you. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants and you are a woman who knows perfectly what to do with that.

"And I believe you're blind, Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Your voice was shrill and short. "This is borderline insubordination. I'd be careful with your next words, Cavill."

"Pardon my frankness, Dr. Y/LN, but I've been here longer and know these patients in and out," his voice raised and you could see the hint of a vein showing on his thick neck. "Some of the children come from very poor and debilitating environments. We can't just cast them off once a diagnosis doesn't stick simply because we need the bed or we're done trying!"

"DR. CAVILL," you exclaim and let out an exasperated sigh. His demeanor changed and his upper lip curved slightly. 

“Dr. Y/LN. With all due respect, I think you’re making the wrong judgement call here. Things are not adding up with Jon-Jon, if we just give it a few more days...I feel like we’re making progress and I’ve labored enough research into it-”

"Again, while I appreciate your passion...”

“Passion which you need to show for the patient-”

You raise your hand to silence him, “This is not up to you, Dr. Cavill. As Chief of Pediatrics, this is my call. We will discharge Jon tomorrow if he does not show any new symptoms. If you disobey any further protocols, I will have no other choice but resort to disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

You press your hands on your desk and lean inward, portraying your stance. 

"Perfectly," he responded. 

"And another thing, I -" you start, but he turns and abruptly walks out of your office, leaving your door open. 

The nerve! Did he really just do that? Where does he think he's going? Didn't I just tell him I'd resort to disciplinary action?!

You rush out of your office and you see him striding through the hall. His strong posture, shoulders back eluded to years of boarding school perhaps or military. You noticed his fists were clenched and it gave you slight satisfaction that you chipped away ever so slightly at his ego.

It was going to take a lot more than that to send you packing, you thought. 

----------------

The next day came and went. You had confirmed that Jon-Jon was discharged with the floor nurse and while you were relieved to have handled that quite professionally, you knew it did not bear well with the rest of the staff.

You were still getting your feet wet and learning more about your team. It was solid overall, many years of expertise collectively, but they treated you like the outsider you were. No requests to meet for lunch or drinks after work. No camaraderie birthday cards seeking your signature or date night advice. Just the normal days in and out, pulling many late nights in your office, up to the point of exhaustion. You'd collapse in your double bed after work, stare at the ceiling of the small room you rented from your cousin, Laura, and try to drown out all the bustle of seven people in the same 3 bedroom flat. 

Just like any other day, You sat alone during lunch. But that never really was ever a bother being used to it now. You were excited about an audiobook you were meaning to dive into and right when you were about to use your airpods, that's when you noticed him enter the cafeteria. 

His presteen, crisp white lab coat was tight around his build. You could tell he took fitness seriously and wondered what he was hiding underneath it all. You unknowingly licked your lips as you watched him search for a fruit out of the bowl off the commons counter. Curious to know what he fancied: was he into a sweet apple or something more tart like cherries. 

He picked up a peach and squeezed it with his massive hand, making it look quite comical considering his size. His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, trying to now draw any attention to yourself. You fumbled with your phone as you connected to the audiobook and heart his footsteps approached your empty table. 

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. Not at all like the day before in your office. 

You play coy and don't bother to look up, fidgeting with your sandwich. 

"Hello," you reply distantly. He made you nervous. Would he bring up yesterday's conversation? Will he continue to look that delectable each day?

He smirked and took a bite of the fuzzy peach. There was a slight crunch as he dug his pearly whites into the rounded fruit. The velvet and thin layer of skin eased off and entered his mouth; he chewed slightly and let the piece swirl around with his thick tongue. 

You peered to look at him and his stare hadn't relented. He took another bite. This time the luscious juice slips out of the white-yellow fleshed fruit and down slightly on his chin. Oh, to be that piece of fruit and have him ravish you that way.  How he’d expertly use his hands over you and taste you with those lips.

He can tell you're still distant, however he notices you're unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

He walks over, closer to you now, and you can smell his cologne: a woody aromatic scent tied with a hint of suede. It's downright delicious and with the mix of the peach, your senses are in overdrive. 

What is it with this man and his ability to excite and anger you all at once? You not only want to put him into his place, you want to do so right here on the cafeteria table and have your way with him.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly and places the half eaten fruit on the table next to your phone and walks away. 

Your cringe and use all your might to not look back at him. He's going to make this very hard for you, very hard indeed. 

[theboywhocriedanocean]

LONELINESS KILLS YOU

I think it's been a while since I've made any post about how life has been turning out to be and honestly I don't know. Everyone says to look at the brighter side while I'm this void/black hole among the stars which shine around me. I feel like I'm dragging myself in, like feeding on myself, like a debilitating disease which eats you up and there's nothing I can do about it.

A few major changes have happened but it always is the surrounding which affects me. I'm trying not to let it do much but I can't help but fall prey to it.

Today as I lay down in my first ever owned room (mini-yay) I could only notice two things: my heavy palpitating breaths and my heart beats like syncopations. In the midst of it, random kids play shouting on top of their heads in the alley, the fan spinning on its axis yet I am here falling for myself and the way I might fade soon.

I find my head paining and the only thought that comes to my mind is first what if my blood pressure rose high and one of my neuron bursts open and knowing how painful this might even be physically to view it soothes me for I don't want people to see me suffering. It has always been a wish of mime to have a slow and painless death. But they say be careful what you wish for! And I guess I've been doing quite the opposite no?

I've lent out public cries for wanting to be held and be helped but people don't seem to care enough. Of course it's alright. Nobody would love to help a stranger let alone save them from a demise which might pull them too.

Been wanting to go and hug my best friend and breakdown because I've had enough. (he doesn't know anything about what goes inside of my head) and moreover I feel that I'll be held emotionally weak for letting myself cave in.

There have been times when my loneliness has crept up on me so much that I keep thinking about what after my death?

I've never told this to anyone and maybe it'll never get out to even the people I know but I feel even if I die, there will be no one at my janaza (deathbead equivalent in Islam where people pay respects to you by gathering around your body and praying for your soul).

Nobody will be there to pick me up and lay me in the ground. No friend, no cousin, just no one. And then where do the lifeless souls go? Get stuck in limbo perhaps? Or just be thrown back to earth to haunt yourself once again. But then still I'd be looking out for my people even if I'm just a lost soul, yet who watches over them from above. Unseen. Unheard. The presence felt though.

[gatheringbones]

I don't know how to feel about that Jane woititz quote about "you are not to be blamed for the suffering you've inflicted" it feels like it takes responsibility away from the person and assuming they didn't have a choice to not treat people badly.

“Not to blame” is a charged phrase that gets my hackles up too, especially when “it’s not my fault!” was one of those tools I saw thrown around a lot to absolve any responsibility to change one’s behavior. I hear you!

but blame, and blaming, got less and less useful the more I saw broken systems from multiple angles and generations, and the less I needed it on a personal level when it came to relating to the abusive people in my life— which pushes me into territories that earlier versions of me that were still very new and tender about the recovery process would have an incredibly hard time interacting with calmly. It used to be very hard for me to take in any information about addicts for example, especially if that information didn’t demonize addicts as horrible monsters whose personal weaknesses were entirely at fault for the chaos surrounding them.

But I got to have my time with blame, I got to dole it out as much as I wanted, and more importantly I got to trace blame back through enough systems and generations that the anger turned into grief. My mom was so fucked up because her mom was fucked up, and so was her mom, and so were the systems that created them, and the systems that created those systems, and once you start going down that rabbit hole it becomes very hard to stop. So you do stop, or at least press pause for a while because it’s an ongoing process where new insights are bound to happen all the time, and because you’ve had your fill of it, and once the question of blame has been settled to whatever level of comfort suits you, questions like what ought to be done now tend to take the forefront.

If I can see my exact role and function in these interlocking systems, with the ability to identify why my maladaptive coping mechanisms failed to serve me the way I wanted them to, and bolstered by the fact that I have been able to grieve whatever needed grieving, where do I go from there? Not the people who harmed me— me.

thinking about my earlier difficulties interacting with materials meant to help and understand addicts made me remember that gabor maté quote about asking why and the function of justification:

“Posed in a tone of compassionate curiosity, “Why?” is transformed from rigid accusation to an open-minded, even scientific question. Instead of hurling an accusatory brick at you head (e.g. “I’m so stupid; when will I ever learn?” etc.) the question “Why did I do this again, knowing full well the negative consequences?” can become the subject of a fruitful inquiry, a gentle investigation. Taking off the starched uniform of the interrogator, who is determined to try, convict, and punish, we adopt toward ourselves the attitude of an empathic friend, who simply wants to know what’s going on with us. The acronym COAL has been proposed for this attitude of compassionate curiosity: curiosity, openness, acceptance, and love: “Hmmm. I wonder what drove me to do this again.

The purpose is not to justify or rationalize but to understand. Justification is another form of judgement, every bit as debilitating as condemnation. When we justify, we hope to win the judge’s favor or to hoodwink her. Justification connives to absolve the self of responsibility; understanding helps us assume responsibility. When we don’t have to defend ourselves against others or, what’s more, against ourselves, we are open to seeing how things are. I become free to acknowledge the addiction the moment the fact of having behaved along addictive patters no longer means that I’m a failure as a person, unworthy of respect, shallow, and valueless. I can own it and see the many ways it sabotages my real goals in life. Being cut off from our own natural self-compassion is one of the greatest impairments we can suffer. Along with our ability to feel our own pain go our best hopes for healing, dignity, and love. What seems nonadaptive and self-harming in the present was, at some point in our lives, an adaptation to help us endure what we had to go through then.”

“Who is to blame?” < “Why did this happen?” for me, and it took a very long time to get there and every stage of that process was necessary for my development.

[souladventure]

What I learned during the Covid19 lockdown after losing my passion business.

Despite all the losses incurred because of this global cluster-fuck known as the COVID19 pandemic/lockdown, I've learned so many invaluable truths and realities that probably wouldn't have ever surfaced otherwise. Here are a few that i'd like to share with everyone so I could just get it out there for my own wellbeing and possibly help others in the process:

1. I learned so much about myself and how weak I am (or was) mentally. My heart and mind didn't fair so well when I lost so much and I'm still coping as I write this. I feel a lot stronger emotionally now after such a debilitating and humbling experience. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger I guess.

2. If you get into a business that’s directly related to a passion that brings you joy and purpose, brace yourself for the turmoil and negativity (that comes with any business) you will be introducing to this passion of yours. i.e. Surfing for me was all positivity until I had to start hiring friends and dealing with different groups who either saw me as a threat or just felt I was competition to them. I honestly just wanted to help an industry grow so every stakeholder involved, including myself, could flourish but I didn't expect a lot of people to hate on me for it. 

The good news is after a decade many of these haters became my friends again when they realized my efforts actually helped them and that I wasn't there to take anything away from them. Surfing is a huge part of my lifestyle and my relationship to the community is something I'd like to maintain as a positive zone instead of a cutthroat business arena. 

I'm happy to say that although I share the same passion for food and I am now committed 100% to this industry ("Tito Paolo's Inasal" est during lockdown May 2020), I'm not emotionally involved with anyone else in it and I would't care less if anyone hated on me.

3. Don't get into a business that relies entirely on the skills of only a very limited amount of individuals that aren't readily available or expendable. For this reason, i chose to close down Skwala Surfboards, a passion project i dreamt about since '99 and materialized in 2010, when the pandemic further burried me in debt. You will pay for this big time if the employees or partners who are the only ones who can perform the main operations of your business suddenly act up. (This was something I actually already knew even before the pandemic but because I was so passionate about it I still decided to continue. Now I’m facing the ramifications of being blinded by a grave emotionally driven decision).

I don't regret this tho because I still built something that was considered the best in it’s time and also established itself as the pioneer of a growing industry. This satisfaction doesn't stem from merely bragging rights but more so on the fact that I know that I can be the best at something I focus all my energy on. (I'm happy to say I have shifted this focus from surfboard manufacturing to food where I feel just as fulfilled and continue to grow and innovate.) 

You yourself have to be the best at providing the product/service of your business so that when the people you hire fuck up you can fire their asses and do it yourself. I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever learn how to shape a surfboard but I’m proud enough to say that I am the best beginner level surfing instructor and I make the best inasal.

4. Don’t expect your employees to make any extra efforts or sacrifices for you in times of crisis and prioritize your business in its entirety. Do not give more than you can afford no matter how desperate they are. They will never sincerely appreciate your gestures of kindness and generosity and you best expect that they will never return the favor! Your business isn't a charity and it's survival as a whole should be paramount. Sorry to say but in my experience the employees will never ever truly understand nor realize the value of their employer's survival. They will still slack with their work and expect the same salary despite the sales amounting to zero. And don’t be surprised when they fucking steal. That’s because they feel like its their right to do so (A common issue in third world settings). To top it off when everything is close to being dead they will still ask for backpay. Make sure you are prepared legally and financially for this. But don't you ever believe you have loyal employees who are willing to join you in the muck when the shit goes down. I wouldn't either so I'm not judging anyone with this statement and I'm eating up the losses. But except for those who stole...fuck them.

5. Learn to let go and do it sooner so as not to lose more than you really have to. If you think going through a breakup is tough, try losing your dream business. Make sure you are on point with calculating your losses and pull the plug as early as you can. Don't allow your passions to overcome your decision making. One of the first things my father taught me in business was "Never fall In love with your ideas" and I'm still kicking myself for not listening. What I can add to this is if you aren’t part of the lucky few whose passions just so happen to be highly lucrative businesses then instead "Do what your are good at over doing what you love! Because when you succeed at what you are good at you can do absolutely anything you want!" Anyone who tells you otherwise is either a rich kid or a Woke AF grass fed hipster.

6. Get work online. Start a vlog, a podcast, teach english or teach anything. Just take the steps to begin a career online because this is easily available and it's work from home safe. I'm only beginning to do this now and yes I'm gonna make a vlog or podcast interview about all of these things I mentioned above but only after I'm done sorting all my shit out.

That's all I have to say for now and I'm happy to also say that I've been moving forward with a more positive attitude lately. I'm stronger now and I only care about things that are valuable to my growth. I still deal with depression and anxiety on a daily basis but this has reduced as I see new goals on the horizon.

I wanna thank all my friends who were there to drop a line and support me in even the slightest of ways when I most needed it.

I want to thank my Dad and family for being there no matter what. I'm crying now as I type this. Man, you don't know how much gratitude I have for you guys.

I also want to thank those who still stayed buddies with people who burned me in business. It allows me to know where to classify you in my internal contact list. (Facebook should have that...Friends list and Frenemies or Fake Friends, lol.)

I also want to thank God...yes I believe in you. Live Jesus in our hearts...Forever. Amen. 

[the-based-brit]

I don't believe that you had the life of reilly. Tell us about your abuse, your feelings are valid

*WARNING! LONG AND VERY DEPRESSING POST INCOMING!*

My biological mother smoked and drank while she was pregnant with me, and I was born with two very severe and debilitating disabilities because of her - Dyspraxia and physical difficulties. The former significantly affects my ability to communicate, makes my brain to slow to process information, and it’s a lot like autism in that it makes me struggle to understand certain social cues and hold a conversation with other people etc.. My short-term memory is...well, very short. I forget things. I can remember stuff that happened years ago, but sometimes I forget whatever it was I did five minutes ago. My brain is broken.

The latter affects my motor skills. My hands are not very strong, and I don’t have a very good grip. Sometimes, I struggle to do things that require a strong pair of hands, such as opening a jar, and I have to get my dad and my stepmother to do it for me. I also can’t bend my right thumb properly, and my handwriting is very childlike and scruffy because I have difficulty holding a pen or pencil properly and it takes a while for me to write things down by hand. I’m much better with a laptop or smart device than a pen and paper. And I’m a writer. Or at least I hope to be some day. My right foot also flicks out and my left foot is actually stronger even though I’m right-handed.

My biological mother never bothered to quit drinking or smoking while she was pregnant with me because she was a selfish bitch with a heart made of stone. Instead of nurturing me and raising me right like she was supposed to, she emotionally abused and neglected me for many years. My dad divorced her when I was three years old because she was horrible to him, and more importantly, to me. He left her for my stepmother and never looked back.

When I got a few years older, she told me he cheated on her with my stepmother, but that was a big fat LIE. Nothing could be further from the truth. My dad was never a cheater and never even thought about having an affair. My so-called “mother” was just butthurt because he left her and thus, could no longer control him.

But she still had me, her boy, who was only three years old and, being so young and impressionable, I was easy to manipulate. So she used me to get back at them. The so-called “affair” was not the only lie she told me. She raised me to believe that my dad and stepmother were the ones who were abusing me and they were trying to take me away from her. I suppose that wasn’t a complete lie because my dad and stepmother did fight for custody over me, but that was only because they wanted to save me from my abuser.

But I was just a kid. I was young and dumb and naive and because she was my mother, I believed her. And every Monday afternoon (I lived with my dad and stepmother during the week and my biological mother had me every weekend), I came home from school, with an attitude problem because she told me horrible things about them. And I accused them of those horrible things and needless to say, they got SUPER angry with me and they would defend themselves, and afterwards, I’d feel bad for what I said, I would cry and I would apologise to them profusely.

And I would be left feeling confused, upset, angry and very stressed out. Until the end of the week, I would come home to her and I would tell her what they told me and she would lie to me again. And again. And again. I felt like I was in the middle of a battlefield. In fact, that pretty much sums up my life at home when I was a kid. Now it’s a lot more peaceful, but the damages that were done to me still never fully healed even to this day.

This happened every single fucking week because of her, and it took a massive toll on me. I was very stressed out, exhausted, frightened, traumatised, confused, anxious and depressed and it literally made me feel physically ill, as well as mentally. I could barely eat or sleep. I would often run to the toilet and throw up in it after eating even just a little bit of food because I was so stressed and anxious, I could not hold it down. And because of that I’m very skinny and underweight and even now, I still have problems eating, though I’ve gotten a bit better at it since then. I also suffered terribly from insomnia and that made sleeping just as difficult.

And this made it hard for me to do well in school. Because of all the shit that was going on at home, and because of my disabilities, I struggled to keep up with the other students. I could barely concentrate, I almost always needed help and I could barely get any work done. My grades are mediocre, at best and nobody could understand why and no one cared to. My parents and teachers just nagged me to work harder, and my special helpers in school insisted on doing more or less all my work for me.

Homework was a bitch, too. It took me, like, three hours at the LEAST to get it done because of my problems. To be fair, I was a pretty lazy kid who deliberately put it off because I didn’t wanna do it and I was young and stupid enough to think it would eventually make me not have to. I HATED my maths homework the most. In fact, maths was basically my WORST subject and I preferred English and IT and History, which I was better at. Science and Religious Education were also pretty cool imo. But I digress.

My learning disorder wasn’t the only thing that broke my brain. My biological mother emotionally manipulated me for years, and that broke me even more. Mentally, physically and emotionally, I was a mess. So many attacks on my mind. My body was left in pretty bad shape, too.

And I think the worst part about all of it was that there was basically jack shit I could do about it. I couldn’t defend myself physically because I was too young, too small and too weak. I couldn’t defend myself verbally because I was far too tired, too over-emotional, too terrible at verbal communication and couldn’t articulate myself well enough. And I was too emotionally abused and bullied, both at home AND at school to even TALK about it. That’s the thing about abusers, they don’t want their victims talking to anyone about their abuse.

And on the rare occassions I did talk about it, no one gave two shits and a fuck. Most people didn’t know about it. Some did, but most of them didn’t give a damn, at least not enough to do anything about it, like get me some help or get me away from my abuser. Because I grew up in a shithole of a town, where there are some good people but there’s a lot more BAD people.

Plus, my abuser was a woman and I’m male. And no one gives two shits about male abuse survivors like myself. I was often told to “man up”, “grow up” and “stop being a pussy” just for trying to open up about my feelings instead of bottling them up inside.

She was a feminist, too, my abuser. I had a biological half-sister who was nine years younger than me and she was treated like a princess while I was treated like dogshit. She never admitted to being one of those crazy man-hating feminist types, not in front of me, but looking back, I realised her actions spoke louder than her words. She was in part the reason I stopped calling myself a feminist years ago.

My dad and stepmother were fairly well-off. Not rich, but not broke, either. Definitely not. I come from a family of teachers. My dad was a teacher, my stepmother is, or was a teacher, and so is my older brother. I could have been a teacher myself if I wasn’t born disabled and abused and neglected for so many years. My dad works in a school full of kids with learning difficulties similar to mine, and he gets paid a lot of money to teach them. And they’re very materialistic and money-oriented people who vote for the UK Labour Party every year, but only because they tax you less. And they think they’re such good parents because they have money and they can buy me nice things, but in my experience, you need more than just money to be a good parent. You have to support your children physically, emotionally and mentally as well.

As George Carlin once said: 

It’s good that they had more than enough money to put food on the table, clothes on my back, a roof over my head...plus entertainment and any luxury item I wanted, but if they had just provided me with equal amounts of love and emotional support, if not more than equal, I would have been mostly ok. But I’m not. I’m broken. I’m aloof. I’m mentally scarred. I’m traumatised. I’m anxious and depressed. I’m very mentally ill, tired and damaged beyond repair.

Because truth be told, they weren’t much better than my so-called mother. Especially my stepmother. I guess she was not as manipulative, but she was very emotionally and verbally abusive. She would often yell at me over little things, and bully me constantly. Just like my abuser, and the other kids at school who harassed me every. single. schoolday. She was horrible to me. Far as I’m concerned, they are both as bad as each other. She’s calmed down quite a bit and she’s not so abrasive anymore, but she still has her moments, and the damage she’s done to me, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, had a permanent effect.

I never had a REAL mother. The kind who nurtures her children and loves them unconditionally. My family hates my guts because they think I’m a spoiled, entitled little brat and a very spiteful, vindictive, hateful little shit (I was a very angry kid. And for good reason) who always cries and complains when he doesn’t get his own way. I never had any real friends, either. I hardly ever speak to anyone in real life because I’ve tried so many times and it seldom ended well. That, and I’m crippled by a horrible social anxiety, which is not as bad as it used to be, but it’s still there.

I’ve never had a girlfriend, either. Or a boyfriend. I’m a virgin, and a loner. Fuck my life.

[oumakokichi]

You know, speaking of, I don't think I've ever read your thoughts on Mitarai in detail. Especially in comparison to Saihara, to whom Mitarai almost seems like a prototype of in some ways.

As much of a mess as dr3 was, I came out of it likingMitarai quite a lot, actually. More than I thought I would at first, for sure.While the anime was airing in its earlier stages, I saw quite a lot of hype forhim, but I wasn’t sure what to expect from him, really. He was there in most episodes, especially inFuture Arc (and later on became much more prevalent in Despair Arc)… but hedidn’t really do a lot early on.

Then the more things progressed, the more he started lookingextremely suspicious, and the more interested I became. And when it turned outhe made Super Big Mistakes™ and started showing a lot of his flaws, that’s whenI realized he was actually one of the better-written characters in the anime,and I wound up really liking him.

I think you’re exactly right in calling him a prototype forSaihara. Both of them deal with things like depression and debilitating socialanxiety, and both of them harbor a good amount of self-loathing for their ownweakness. Their inability to stand and face things leaves them feeling helplessand isolated, especially from those “stronger” than them who they perceive asbeing unable to understand or connect to their problems as a “weaker” person.

Like Saihara, Mitarai feels that his only use is through histalent. But where Saihara’s talent is one responsive to a situation, somethingthat’s “only useful after tragedy has already struck,” Mitarai’s entireambition was to use his talent to its fullest potential. In fact, describinghim as a “Saihara prototype but with 100% more ambition” might be a good way toput it, because it’s Mitarai’s ambition that drives him to work himself to thebone, as well as what allows Junko to take advantage of him so badly later on.

Mitarai’s desire to “change the world through anime” is somewhatinteresting to look back on after playing ndrv3, especially because of thewhole “fiction can change the world theme.” It would be very interesting to seehim actually put in an ndrv3-like scenario, and if there had been actualinteractions between the dr3 characters and other characters in the ndrv3 bonusmode, I wouldn’t have minded seeing some kind of interaction between him andTsumugi, preferably.

He and Tsumugi are also interesting parallels of oneanother, because they both resort to the “unhealthily coping through fiction”tactic, but in drastically different ways. And where Mitarai is clumsy andsocially awkward, he’s still a caring, empathetic person at heart. He avoidedcoming to class and getting to know the other sdr2 characters because he wasafraid that it would be a “distraction” from his work; in other words, he wasworried that he’d get too attached. Tsumugi meanwhile is someone who considersherself a true observer. She doesn’t need to worry about getting attachedbecause she fundamentally lacks empathy for her classmates from the start. Bothof them want to “only live in a fictional world,” but the way they regardothers is incredibly different.

Mitarai’s attempts to withdraw and isolate himself fromeverything around him and throw himself singlemindedly into his work aresimultaneously really sad, because it’s what prevented him from ever reallymaking friends or growing attached to people, but also impressive. It’s thatdedication towards his work that prevented him from giving up completely.

If it weren’t for that, he would’ve probably given upentirely when Junko pushed him to the edge of despair—and that was such a greatscene, because it was one of the few glimpses dr3 gave us of what Junko coulddo with just a few words and her analytical talent as opposed to brainwashingthem. Mitarai’s ambition and willpower (and, well, the fact that he knew howthe brainwashing worked in the first place) were the only reasons he didn’t everfully despair when countless others who were stronger or smarter than him did.

I liked that the anime questioned more of his motivationsand objectives the longer it went on. While he started out seeming fairlysympathetic as a character (moreso after standing in for Asahina and gettingpunched by Juzo pretty much right off the bat), dr3 also didn’t shy away fromgiving us hints and clues that he was deeply tied to everything that hadhappened at Hope’s Peak Academy. His run-in with Junko about midway throughDespair Arc then flat-out confirmed it. Thus, we were able to start seeingMitarai from the perspective of someone who didn’t seem to be pulling thestrings exactly, but who was also clearly hiding secrets. On top of that, heseemed exhausted, defensive, and clearly jealous of characters like Naegi whohad the “strength” to stand up to Junko and stop her.

Hope Arc was quite a mess in many ways—hell, the wholeTengan twist was pretty much a huge trainwreck. But one part I did like quite alot was the final scene between Mitarai, Naegi, and the sdr2 characters. Mitarai’sspeech to Naegi, his anger and frustration that Naegi simply couldn’tunderstand with him or connect with him because he was never the kind of “weakperson” that Mitarai perceives himself to be, felt very real andunderstandable. I think he succeeded in calling out Naegi on “empty platitudes”in that one scene better than Munakata did in the entirety of Future Arc,because it’s true that it was a perfect example of Naegi trying to comfort andconsole someone without actually knowing anything about what Mitarai hadactually been through.

It’s a shame that dr3 handled the sdr2 characters so badlyand didn’t really flesh them out or explore their full potential, because thescene in which they appeared and Hinata began talking to Mitarai was actually really,really good. The idea of Mitarai only being willing to listen to people who hadalso done horrible things and were still striving to atone for their mistakes,of people who would probably never stop atoning but wanted to make amends anyway,was really excellent in concept. If dr3 had been a whole anime about… well,that kind of thing instead of the mess that we got, I think it would have gonea lot smoother.

But regardless of the bad parts of dr3 and the unfortunatecharacterization in some aspects, Mitarai was pretty consistently writtenthrough and through. Like Juzo, he was someone who contributed to the tragicevents that Junko put into motion, and also like Juzo, he blamed himselfimmensely and felt as though he had betrayed the people who should’ve been hisclassmates and friends. But because he was always, constantly running away (asJunko lampshades) he never got to know them, and he was incapable of stoppingthe events that occurred as a result of his talent.

Even his attempt to upload his “hope” brainwashingtechnology in order to eradicate “despair” was yet another means of runningaway from the situation. By crafting a world in which only hope existed, it wasthe equivalent to creating a world where “nothing bad happens” and where “everythingis peaceful”—in other words, something like a “fictional world.” I really amvery strongly reminded of ndrv3 when I think of it like that.

Much like Saihara, Mitarai’s awareness and resentmenttowards his own weakness is something I found relatable. I quite likecharacters who consider themselves “cowards” or feel that they’re “weak” or “lackingsomething,” but who nonetheless contribute to the narrative in other means. AndI also like characters who want to atone in some way or make amends for thepast, so I suppose that means Mitarai was bound to be right up my alley sooneror later.

Had he just stuck around to be cute and relatively harmless,I would have liked him well enough, but I don’t know that I would’ve gotten asattached to him as I am now. I wound up liking Mitarai much more when he woundup showing all his anger and bitterness and jealousy, because it humanized himand it showed that he was perfectly aware of his own shortcomings. He was, inmy opinion, one of the better new characters to come out of dr3 along with Juzo.

Thank you for asking, by the way! I haven’t really talkedabout Mitarai at all so this was fun to think about. He’s one of thosecharacters who (again, like Saihara) I like to make fun of pretty often becauseit’s just so easy, and the dr3 dub made it even easier, but he really is apretty good character.