J: michael and i have both been seeing a therapist since everything. i go to family counseling with my dad and michael has to drive all the way to the city for a specialist but its been helping the both of us a lot! therapy isnt an instant fix and a lot of it is wanting to be helped in the first place but…
honestly, i really enjoyed hearing taliesin straight up say that percy needs therapy but unfortunately doesn’t have access to it because, you know, it doesn’t exist and the only similar thing out there would be religious and percy is not about that
because percy is textbook ptsd and it’s extremely easy to read him as bipolar and it’s really nice to hear the guy behind percy agree that in a different world, percy would absolutely be getting help
Fic prompt because I LOVE your work!!! Fitz with Ophelia "I'll never stop fighting you!" I
You’re so sweet, thank you! I should have spent longer on this (I’m gonna reread it and cringe later), but I wanted to get it in under the wire before canon blows it to shreds haha! [tw: obv ophelia features in this, dealing with feelings because of non-con, but they don’t have a ‘relationship’]
He doesn’t fight. When she lands them in a desert and lets go, he barely has the strength to lean over before throwing up.
“Oh, Leopold,” she says, concern etched into her features. “I’m so sorry. You’ll get used to the teleportation.”
As if an unexpected dematerializing is even on the radar of things to churn his stomach. He has been split wide open, the core of him exposed for everyone to see. He has flaws, so many of them, and before he might have listed them dispassionately: temper, loyalty to the point of blindness, jealousy, arrogance, a false bravado when he secretly feels like a coward. Years ago, he remembers thinking: Jemma knows my flaws and she loves me anyway. I’m not a bad person.
But now the protective film has been stripped away and he’s seeing clearly for the first time; this darkness has always been there. He is a bad person. He’s an evil person, and he has hurt people. His brain spins with images of his friends and his victims. In another reality, he had yelled at Mace for sending Jemma away without warning, but the punishment for that was not supposed to be death.
“You mean nothing to me,” he had told the woman he’d wanted to marry, and he would have killed her. His hand shakes, as if still straining with the weight of the gun. Fitz falls to the ground, rocks biting into his knees. He can’t remember how to breathe.
“It gets easier with time,” Ophelia says, attempting to run a comforting hand along his arm. He turns his face from her and retches again.
He doesn’t fight because he doesn’t have the strength and deep down he knows he deserves this punishment anyway. Perhaps he is doomed to wander through the desert with her for forty years; he hopes they both die before reaching her promised land.
“I understand what you’re going through,” she tells him. “And I’m going to help you, because you were the only one to treat me with compassion when I was a slave.”
“Don’t you regret anything you’ve done?” he asks. It’s the only thing he’s said in hours. For a moment, he’s not sure he’s even spoken aloud.
Ophelia gazes at him searchingly and then frowns, as if working through her own emotions. “No,” she finally replies. “I have learned so much, Leopold. I fixed a single regret for each of you, to make you happy. And everyone simply created new regrets.”
He wants to tell her that she rewrote his entire life. He wants to tell her that she took away all of his choices, that he loves his mother and would never have traded her for a lifetime with an abusive father. I wanted a father who loved me and supported me and stayed, he thinks, surely you knew this isn’t what I meant.
But he doesn’t argue with her because this, like everything, is his fault. You don’t put wishes out into the universe without carefully considering the consequences—he of all people should have known that.
“Humans don’t understand what’s best for them,” she says. “This is what I’ve learned. All this capacity for feeling, for free will, and they waste it. We’re going to create something better. We’re going to help people, and we’re going to be so happy.”
He marvels at how genuinely delighted she appears. Maybe she stole his soul to become a real person because he can’t even remember what happiness feels like. He thinks of Jemma, but all of his good memories are tainted by the acrid smell of gunpowder and the words he’ll never be able to take back.
“It’s time to go,” Ophelia says, grabbing his arm to disappear him again. He shudders at her touch, but he doesn’t fight. He doesn’t know how.
He sits in an abandoned house, head in his hands, and breathes through another panic attack. Ophelia, it seems, is growing impatient with his weakness.
“I need your help,” she says. “For our plan. And if you’d just let me, I can make all this pain go away.”
But he needs the pain, because it’s there to remind him that this world is real. He cries when he thinks of Jemma, but he needs to replay her words over and over so that he never forgets what he’s done and why he’s here. He has lost faith in everything, but he offers up silent prayers anyway: keep her safe. Keep them all safe, and I will stay here with Ophelia and I will not fight. No one could accuse him of not accepting his prison sentence.
Ophelia’s plan doesn’t make much sense to him, although perhaps that is because nothing makes sense to him at the moment. Or perhaps she doesn’t fully trust him so she’s only letting him in on part of it.
He has so little strength, but he holds her back in small ways. He sabotages where he can. Sometimes he hears Jemma’s voice in his head, guiding his actions. Sometimes he even sees her, but she never lays a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he tells this imaginary Jemma. “I understand.”
“Is this how you felt?” Ophelia asks, kneeling next to him. She has procured a bed for them to share, but he spends every night curled up in the corner of the living room, the stiff wood of the floor burning his joints. “Is this how it felt when she chose someone else? Do you know how much you’re hurting me?”
No, he thinks, of course this is not how it felt. With Jemma, his heart had shattered into a fine dust. With Jemma, he had seen her videos and known she loved him, maybe even loved him the most, and that made it hurt more. But with Jemma, he had thought her happiness could be enough to save them both.
Now, he and Ophelia are locked in a sick dance and when he falls, he will pull her down with him. He will sacrifice himself to stop her, and his anger and disgust and self-hatred will be enough to save the world.
What she means:
Not giving Sakura the wood release was such a wasted opportunity, both narratively and thematically. All of Sakura's primary motifs are based off of plants, her main teacher is Hashirama's only living descendant, and her teammates already emulate the two other people involved in the Battle of the End (Mito and Naruto are both Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi, and Sasuke and Madara both possess the Mangekyou Sharingan). Her inclusion in the second Battle of the End would strengthen the plot by introducing rule of three to create a more complex narrative than just two souls pitting against each other, and carry the theme of generational parallels further than Team 7's apprenticeships with the Sannin.
I feel like everyone who writes Erik as having started out looking like everybody else and then gotten acid thrown at him or whatever is forgetting the legit, actual thing that existed in the 19th century (and earlier, and now) that could eat someone’s nose off and had a huge social stigma attached
Why do we not have a phic where Erik was a handsome young man who fell in love with someone and contracted syphilis and lost his nose because of that?
daddyofive and that stepmom are so obviously abusers omg i’m not that big on philip defranco sometimes his videos are good and sometimes they’re shit but those parents are doing the classic playing the victim/shifting that blame to other people. with my mother i was always to blame for why she beat me. people who tired intervene or help us had some secret malicious agenda to tear her down/our family apart. the same thing is happening with daddyofive blaming defranco.
Idk it bothers me how maybe the “overreactions” of a /few/ not even the majority in my opinion has brought out the response that you can’t feel/are not allowed to feel bad/have negative feelings at all about this, like you can still feel disappointed on one small aspect of something, that doesn’t mean you’re dragging the rest of the group or putting down their efforts or saying the comeback is bad as a whole! You’re allowed to feel however you want as long as you’re respectful towards other people and the other members, which I feel like most people have been!
you know, I know its taboo and shit to say but like … just because dialectical behavioral therapy has been shown to have a lot of good results doesn’t mean it works for /everyone/ with BPD or other mental illnesses DBT is used to treat.
like we can’t just keep faulting people individually for not getting better with certain systems of treatment? Which is why I don’t mind that so many people are interested in studying psychology, because there’s always more you can do and theres always new things that may help those who aren’t getting better with existing methods of treatment for mental illness.
basically: u go you psychology nerds. create new shit.
“Tony and the White Rabbit” - Digital Oil Painting
“No, Tim belongs to Pep. I should never be responsible for anything that requires actual food to live. But she got him because it’s important for my ‘therapy’ or something. Said it needed to be a ‘quiet’ animal. I asked for a snake. We got Tim the Bunny here instead. What did Bruce bring? Please tell me he has a snake. …A cat? Ugh, boring. I’m getting him a snake. …Don’t tell Pep.”
I think Tony said all the description I needed, LOL. Can you picture Pepper putting the rabbit in his hands when she decides he’s worked long enough and it’s time for a break? He has a love/hate relationship with Tim the Bunny.
Jesse at week 1: I want to go home. I hate it here and I hate you. Deadlock was my family. they weren’t perfect but they were what i needed and deserved. I hate that you stole that from me and therapy or whatever isn’t going to help.
Jesse month 1: I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here. This isn’t who I am.
Jesse month 2: Gabe isn’t my enemy. The shrink isn’t my enemy.
Jesse month 6: Maybe deadlock wasn’t good for me
Jesse year 1: I wouldn’t go back to Deadlock if offered the choice. Maybe this is better for me.
Jesse year 3: I was groomed and abused. Deadlock was bad for me. I hate them for what they did, but also I probably deserved it. I am unclean and deserved it.
A week into her solidarity, she had a visitor. She stood in front of the door to the cottage hesitantly before unlocking the door and peeking out the door. She swallows hard as she stares at the man in front of her. His hair is an unruly mess and his eyes are glossy—he hadn’t been sleeping. He throws the letter she had written him to her feet. He looks furious and she’s starting to get angry.