#NOTE: i have way more experience with emotional manipulation than i do physical abuse. i dont know if this stuff works for physical abuse

[404pagenotavailable]

I don't have nearly as many useful or non-obvious ones, but...

keep your brightness low. If they take your phone and can't see it, while turning up the brightness you may have a chance to close out whatever app you were on.

have multiple hiding spots. If they find one, you may have lost something, but not everything. DO NOT put everything in one place.

the more extracurriculars you do at school, the less time you're at home. I do enjoy most of the things I do, but I wouldn't have stuff every day of the week if I loved being at home.

HOWEVER: two things. 1) they should be things that you've demonstrated some interest in. I'm not going to join the Fashion Club out of nowhere, because that's going to cause a conversation. But *me* joining Jazz Band or Film Club makes more sense. And 2) your parents, like mine, might be ones to demand that you be good at the things you do. So if you just randomly join a bunch of clubs and don't start getting awards and/or being in charge, they might either be angrier with you or just make you quit.

the backseat is so much better for yelling. It's also harder for them to reach you, especially if you're directly behind their seat.

If you need accommodations and your parents don't allow it, ask your teachers separately. Take a week or two to learn their character and whether they will react badly, and then one day after class just ask politely for what you need if you can. EXAMPLE SCRIPT: "Hi! I just wanted to let you know that I suffer from anxiety and have sensory processing issues. I'm just telling you because if it looks like I'm not participating or zoning out, I'm probably just overwhelmed and doing my best. I was wondering if I could wear earplugs during long tests or quizzes to help me focus like a neurotypical person might be able to." If they say no, don't push too hard because that leads to them telling your parents that you are "disruptive".

okay this one sucks. but you might have to pretend to be hurt sometimes. You accidentally slam something, you might need to cry out after to make it seem more like an accident and not attitude.

don't make them call you twice. Wearing both headphones, or blocking your hearing at all, isn't a good idea.

please don't try the "I have a legal right to my information!" shit. Trust me, it's not going to make them magically give you anything.

Know that it might never be enough. No matter how much you do, it might never spare you from punishment. Because the problem is not, and NEVER will be, you. The problem is them.

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 11

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.7 K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

You spent your days wandering after Elain like a lost puppy. Everywhere she went, you weren’t far behind. You weren’t sure why you felt so drawn to her, but her presence brought you a sense of peace and comfort. She accepted you the way you were. Not that Feyre or Nesta didn’t, but Elain didn’t ask questions or look at you with pity, as you often found the other two doing. While you didn't talk much, Elain had no trouble putting you to work in the gardens on the roof of the House of Wind. Your knowledge from growing up in the mountains, farming, and cultivating in a harsh environment was invaluable. Elain welcomed your insights on deep-rooting plants and flowers that could withstand the torment of Ramiel mountain storms.

Sleep didn’t come easily, often disrupted by cold sweats when your mate managed his way into your dreams. Many nights you chose instead to bathe, sit on the balcony, or wander the great halls of the house. Feyre seemed content to leave you under the care of her sister, returning to her own home on the river, back to her old life and her baby boy. Nesta, too, filled her time, heading out early in the morning to train with her Valkyries. She offered for you to join her, but you politely declined, not quite prepared to leave the mansion's walls.

As soon as the sun crested the mountaintops, you would be out of your room and in the large kitchen, preparing your own food. You still opted not to join the rest of them for dinners, finding that the food they often ate unsettled your stomach with its complex flavors you hadn’t yet grown accustomed to.

After you had eaten, you would be on the roof of the manor, hands in the dirt, pulling weeds, tending to fresh blooms, and trimming away the rest. Elain would find you hours later, her wide-brimmed sunhat tied below her chin and a smile on her face. Often, Lucien would come to find her in the midafternoon, pulling her away for some task or another, with a coy, cheeky smile playing on his lips. She would disappear for the rest of the afternoon, and when you had finally finished tasks that should have taken less than half the time, you would wipe the sweat from your brow, shower, cook dinner, and try to sleep before the sun went down, hoping to get a few hours in before your mate found his way back in.

You hadn’t seen the elusive Cassian, who appeared to still be in Windhaven. You learned through whispered conversations between Feyre and Nesta that it was another Illyrian training camp. Unlike Azriel, Cassian seemed much more involved with the soldiers, so it brought you no small amount of relief when you overheard that Cassian’s stay would be extended a few more days.

On a particularly challenging night, when you couldn’t will yourself to sleep and the sun had long since set, you finally threw back the sheets and made your way to the kitchen, looking for anything to do.

Pouring through cabinets, pulling out various bowls and plates, and scouring the pantry, you decided to make a childhood favorite: cranberry cookies. You mixed the ingredients at a much slower pace than Elain, measuring them solely by heart and the memories of your mother, her hand over your own as she stirred the bowl, humming softly. The rhythmic motion of stirring the batter, combined with the sweet, tart aroma of cranberries, filled you with a bittersweet nostalgia. 

As the cookies baked, you leaned against the counter, watching the firelight dance on the walls. The familiar scent enveloped you, bringing back fleeting memories of simpler, happier times. Your mother’s laughter echoed faintly in your mind, mingling with the crackling of the fire.

You were so lost in your own mind, you didn’t hear the door to the kitchen open, and didn’t even turn to look until you heard the sound of clanging behind you. When you whipped around, Azriel was standing at the end of the island by the door, placing a pile of weaponry on top of it. His face was covered in dirt and grease, with black smudges around his eyes, which only highlighted how light his hazel eyes were. He wore the leather armor you had seen him in before, also covered in dirt and grime, and his hair was a wild mess.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t think anyone was in here.”

You paused for a second, your hand perched tentatively on the edge of the counter as you took him in. You hadn’t seen him since the night he brought you here, and you weren’t sure if he had been busy or just avoiding you. Either way, you didn’t mind. “It’s fine,” you said, turning back to the stove and leaning against the counter.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, still pulling various knives out of hidden pockets around his armor.

You jostled your legs lightly against the cabinet. “No, not really.”

Azriel walked over to the sink, pulling off his gloves and attempting to unbuckle the vambraces on his forearms, which seemingly gave him trouble. He gripped the leather belt in his mouth, attempting to pull them apart. When he still couldn’t, you walked over to him. “Let me help,” you offered.

Azriel extended his arm to you, turning it upwards so you could better see the buckles, which you made quick work of. “Thank you,” he whispered.

As you undid the last belt, the armor fell from his arm into your hands, heavy and worn. He flexed his scarred hands and arms, the veins and muscles beneath protruding as the places where the belts had dug into his skin burned a dark red color. You held the heavy armor in your hands and considered how much the rest of the armor must have weighed. “Would you mind doing the other?” he asked.

You shook your head and took his other vambrace, undoing it and placing it next to the first on the counter. He shook his hands out, laughing lightly to himself. “You’d think after so many years of doing this I’d be able to undo my own armor.”

“I’m sure you would have gotten it,” you reassured him as he turned on the faucet, allowing the water to stream over his filthy hands. He cupped them, then brought the water to his face, scrubbing at the skin, the dirt and grease smearing more into his skin as he did so, water flinging around and landing on the counter. You took a step back to avoid the splash. He peeked out from his hands, “Sorry,” he said.

You turned to a drawer, pulling out a washcloth. “Stop,” you told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He seemed surprised at your touch, turning to look at you, water dripping from his hair and off his face. “You’re making it worse,” you laughed.

Azriel threw you a soft smile as you ran the cloth under the water, rubbing a bit of the bar soap into it until it suds up. He turned, leaning his hips against the lip of the sink, his scarred hands braced on either side of him as you prepared the rag. You wrung out the cloth, grabbed a tea towel hanging from a cabinet, and draped it over your shoulder. Stepping in front of Azriel, who towered over you, you noticed he lowered himself slightly, his face now just above your head.

You reached up, the damp cloth in your hand, and began wiping the dirt from his face, careful and deliberate in your movements. His skin, hardened and tight against his cheek and jawbones, softened under your touch. You avoided looking directly into his eyes as you traced the cloth down his nose, over the curve of his lips, and along his chin, revealing his beautifully tanned skin beneath. When you brushed your fingers over his brows, water dripped from the overhang into his eyes, and you laughed softly. “Sorry about that.”

He only smiled back, “It’s fine.”

You steadied his face with your other hand, gently pushing his hair back from his temple as you washed his forehead. Your mouth parted slightly in concentration, and when you finally managed a glance at Azriel, you noticed he was focused on your lips. You quickly closed them, a flush creeping up your neck. You continued to clean him, even after the dirt was gone, your touch becoming softer, more lingering as you traced the lines of his face. The intimacy of the moment hung between you, both hesitant to break the delicate connection.

The sudden dinging of the stove pulled you out of your trance, and you stumbled backward slightly. Tossing Azriel the tea towel to dry his face, you made your way over to the stove, trying to steady the fluttering in your stomach as you pulled the tray from the warmth of the oven.

Azriel chuckled, “My face is now the cleanest part of my body.” He dried his face with the towel, his hair still sticking out wildly, now damp from the rag.

“You’re welcome,” you noted, trying to sound casual.

He threw the rag and cloth into the sink. “Thank you.”

You pulled a cookie from the tray, taking a bite as the warmth melted on your tongue. Azriel washed his hands again, drying them before coming over to the stove. He kept a fair amount of distance between the two of you, a stark contrast to the closeness you had shared moments ago when you could almost press your body into his.

The room seemed quieter now, the air thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. You looked at Azriel, who was now examining the cookies with a sort of detached interest. “Want one?” you asked, offering the tray.

He nodded, reaching for a cookie. “Thanks.” He took a bite, the soft crunch filling the silence.

His eyes rolled back, closing shut as he leaned back slightly. “Mmm.” He let out.

“I know, right?” you replied, grabbing another cookie.

Azriel opened his eyes, taking another bite. “These are fantastic.”

“An old family recipe.” You brushed your hands together to get the crumbs off your fingertips.

“Do you bake a lot?” he asked.

You used to. When you lived with your mother, you were always baking something, using ingredients you could find in the woods or trade from other fae living nearby. You had even made these same cookies for your mate to seal the bond. Baking had once been a constant in your life, with some baked good always cooling on the windowsill of your cabin. And then, one day, you just stopped. “I used to,” you said quietly.

“You should start again,” Azriel replied, wiping his hands on his armor.

You took your time pulling the rest of the cookies from the tray, placing them onto a platter. “Maybe.”

Azriel watched you meticulously stack the cookies before placing a towel over the top. “How are you doing?” he finally asked.

You didn’t look up from your task, placing the baked goods in a breadbox. “Fine.”

“You seem to be doing well.”

You went to the sink to wash the pan. “I think I’m doing well, given the circumstances.”

You scrubbed the pan more than necessary, unwilling to turn and look at him.

“I think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me.”

“Well, all the other times the circumstances were a bit different,” you replied, drying the pan, still not turning to him.

Azriel didn’t respond, waiting to see if you would say anything else. 

When you didn’t, he merely said, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

You paused, the pan still in your hands, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. You finally turned to him, meeting his hazel eyes, now clear and free of grime. You felt a slight pang of fire start in your stomach, biting back what you wanted to say. “It happened,” you responded instead.

“If I could have stopped it, I—” You let the pan slip from your hands. Whether you lost your grip or the water caused it to be slick, you were unsure, but it clattered to the floor in a loud cacophony of bangs.

“Don’t,” you said, finally looking at Azriel, who seemed to be already moving to pick up the pan. “Don’t start that,” you warned.

“I just—” He continued.

You glared at him, the small flame in you growing higher. “You could have done something.”

“At the time, I didn’t even know where you were, I just heard you—” he said, making his way over to you. You took a step back.

“You could have done something before then.”

Azriel stopped, seemingly puzzled. “You told me yourself that you knew about her circumstances. You said it: her life was hard.” Your eyes scanned his as he took in and seemed to now understand what you were referencing. “You saw how she was with you when you touched her.” The flame in you grew into an inferno. “You saw how she slunk around the camp and hid from the males. You saw how she was battered, bruised.” You shook your head, trying to shake her face, bloodied and beaten, from your mind. “You knew. And you didn’t do anything.” You gulped back tears rising in your throat.

Azriel reached one hand out to you. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

“Nothing about this is complicated,” you shot back. “You knew what was happening, and you were complicit.” You shook your head as silver lined your eyes. “Gods—did you know what they were doing to her? To all of them?”

Azriel’s mouth fell open as he stammered out, “I knew they were physically aggressive to them, but—”

“Did you know they were raping her?”

Azriel stopped in his tracks. “No,” he said.

You were unconvinced, just crossing your arms around yourself and shaking your head. “You had no clue?”

“No, if I had known, I would have—”

“What?” You asked, glaring at him. “Stopped them? You didn’t seem to care much when you knew they were beating her.”

“Illyrian culture and society, it’s—it's very old-fashioned,” Azriel continued.

“We don’t live in the old days,” you interrupted.

“Y/N, I’m trying to help them.”

“By letting them stay there?” you asked.

“They don’t want to leave,” Azriel offered.

“Anthea tried to escape. Did you know that?” A tear fell down your cheek.

Azriel paused again. “I didn’t.” He took a second. “But I’ve offered the others to leave, and they refuse.”

You yelled out, “They’re terrified to leave!” The tears began to run more. “What else do they know? Their entire life is brutality, and males taking advantage of them, hurting them. They are breaking every single day. They’ve never known kindness. How do they know to leave if anytime they defy someone, they are brought near death? How do they know there is anything out there other than that?”

Azriel just looked at you, his hands open in front of him, mouth slightly agape as you pushed the tears from your face. “You are promising them a life they can’t imagine exists. And none of you can see that because you don’t know what it is to suffer at the hands of someone else.”

Azriel’s eyes grew dark. “You cannot tell me I don’t know suffering.”

��Not theirs!” you yelled back.

He raised his voice, “I know my own suffering!”

You stepped back slightly, your hand hitting the sink as you recoiled from his yell.

He continued, his voice strained with emotion, “I know what it is to be hurt at the hands of those who should care for you. I know what it is to have your body brutalized. I know what it’s like to try and scrub your body clean of them and not feel any cleaner.” His eyes were black as you gripped the sink. “Do not tell me I do not know what it is to suffer.”

Your voice trembled as you said, “Then you should know what it is to have someone watch as you are hurt and no one steps in to help.”

Azriel’s eyes remained locked onto yours as your breath wavered slightly. “What do you want from me?” he asked.

You paused, unsure of what to say.

“Do you want me to burn it to the ground?” he asked, his face still tense. “Do you want me to rip them from their homes?” He gestured around himself. “Do you know what will happen if I do that? If I suddenly take them all?” He stared at you as you gulped down the fear. “I will have thousands of Illyrian soldiers banging at my doorstep. All of ours. Now, I know you’ve been living your little life of luxury up in the mountains, but those soldiers can kill faster than anything you’ve ever seen. They will tear this country apart bit by bit. Now, do you want that?”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you hardened your own stare. “No.”

Azriel’s black eyes stayed fixed on yours. “Then don’t tell me how to govern these people.” He stammered slightly, “This—this is a delicate system and it requires finesse, not brute-fucking force.” He stopped, bringing his hand to his eyes and rubbing them. “I just—I want them out. I want this to be done. But I can’t change the mindset of thousands in one day. And I won’t risk the lives of everyone by being reckless.”

He looked at you, his face softening slightly. “I can’t do that.”

The tears poured from you as your heart beat wildly, your fingers gripping the sink with white knuckles. Your breath escaped you in ragged gasps as your body froze.

“Y/N,” Azriel started softly, “I’m sorry.”

You whimpered as he moved towards you, wincing back when he raised his hand. “No!” you screeched.

Azriel stopped, looking distressed. “Y/N—” he pleaded.

You dropped from the sink to the floor, curling into a ball as you cried. Azriel stood over you, stunned. “Y/N,” he repeated, his voice desperate.

You rocked back and forth, knees pulled to your chest, heaving out heavy sobs, unable to even fight back.

Azriel stooped down, and as he did, you pulled back even more, choking on your sobs. “What—what can I do?” he asked, helpless.

You whimpered again, trying desperately to wrap yourself into your body, to ball up and protect your midsection.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please,” he pleaded.

The kitchen doors burst open as Nesta came careening down the stairs, her hair wild and her silk nightdress flowing around her. “What did you do?” she screamed at him.

“Nothing!” he replied, raising his hands in defense.

Nesta dropped to her knees beside you, her hands cupping your face as she examined you. She turned back to Azriel, “Back the fuck up, now,” she commanded. Azriel leaned back, landing on his rear as he scooted away.

Nesta turned back to you, her eyes softening. “Breathe, breathe, love,” she cooed.

She took exaggerated slow breaths, which you mimicked. “Just look at me,” she instructed. “Deep breaths, in and out.” Her hands still cupped your face, steady and reassuring. “You’re doing a good job.”

Her calm, collected presence began to soothe you. “It’s alright,” she murmured gently. “You’re safe here.”

She continued to breathe slowly, deeply, guiding you through your panic. “Everything will be okay,” she promised. “I’m here with you.”

Azriel watched from a distance, his expression a mix of guilt and helplessness, as Nesta patiently comforted you, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

You breathed in and out in sync with her breaths as her thumbs traced the rhythm on your cheeks. “Just breathe. You’re safe,” she repeated soothingly.

From behind, Azriel whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Nesta hissed over her shoulder, “Shut it.” She turned back to you, “Keep breathing. It’s okay.”

When you finally steadied yourself, you instinctively leaned into Nesta’s chest. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, murmuring, “It’s okay,” as she ran her hand over your head. “Just keep breathing for me.” She rocked you gently. “You’re safe with me.”

Your breaths grew less choked with sobs as your mind quieted. Nesta continued to remind you to breathe in and out, rocking in time with you, her hand brushing your hair back. “Just calm down,” she whispered.

She looked behind her. “Azriel, make yourself useful. Get me a wet rag.”

Azriel scuffled from the floor, leaning over the two of you to run a rag under water. He wrung it out and handed it to Nesta. She cupped your chin, your eyes meeting hers as she tenderly wiped your face, the coolness soothing your racing thoughts. “It’s okay,” she cooed again.

When she finished, she wiped some water that pooled on your chin with her arm and brushed her thumbs over your eyes. “You’re okay,” she reassured.

Azriel started to speak again, but Nesta, over her shoulder, hissed out, “I think you’ve done enough.”

Nesta wrapped her arms around you, lifting you slightly as you rose with her. “Come on.” Her strength was enough to lift you under your knees, cradling you in her thin but muscular frame. “Let’s go lie down.” You curled into her scent, warm and inviting, reminiscent of your mother, as her heartbeat filled your ears. You gripped at the silk of her gown as she walked towards the stairs. Turning over her shoulder, she instructed Azriel, “We can talk about this later.” She scanned the kitchen, “Clean this up.”

She walked out of the room, still cradling you in her arms, as she brought you through various hallways. Finally, she pushed through doors into an already darkened room. She placed you into sheets that had been tossed and turned in, and smelled of her, as she crawled in next to you. Cradling you to her, she brushed your hair from your face, still shushing you as she did. You pressed your head into her chest as she continued to whisper, “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

My lovely readers who have asked to be tagged, you are safe with me: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba

[buckseb]

always hold you

pairings — tasm!peter parker x bff/gf!fem!reader

summary — in which, she needs her boyfriend's support more than anything else, after another particularly bad fight with her father.

word count — 2.6k.

warnings — a little bit of angst, use of pet-names [dove, sweetheart, darling, love, bug], reader calls peter pete, lots of fluff and this is basically just a hurt/comfort fic, protective/soft!peter, this is also sort of similar to my other peter fic (take as a part two that one), peter comforting reader, mentions of the reader's low self-esteem issues and it being explained a bit more, both physical and emotional abuse (manipulation and gaslighting, but not from peter), hugs and cuddles, forehead kisses, peter just taking care of the reader and showing her the love that her family refuses to do, gwen is in here for a second and being the comforting platonic best friend that she is to reader, peter comes off as a little harsh and scares reader a little bit but he makes up for it in the end.

notes — hi! so, this is really more of a vent fic. i know i've written in the past about dealing w/ a toxic family member and how i really enjoyed writing fics similar to my experiences with my favorite comfort characters to comfort the reader because that would usually help me deal with everything. but recently, the abuse that me, my mom, and my brother have been experiencing has become a lot more complicated and traumatizing for me to deal with. and things have only gotten worse. so, i figured i'd do another comforting fic like the other peter fic i wrote about going through that said abuse. i really just feel that it's important to not hide my true feelings and act like everything's fine behind a screen and i just want to be able to talk about this topic a lot more (especially in my writing), because it's so serious and not nearly talked about enough. but, nonetheless, if there's anyone out there that sees this and is a victim of abuse (whether it's emotional/mental or physical abuse, or both) please don't feel obligated to read this. i really don't want to trigger or upset anyone who's dealing with this situation in a very heavy and overwhelming way. just remember though, no matter what anyone says or does to you, you ARE strong and deserve the entire world. i love you all <3. anyways, i hope this makes up for the lack of posting anything (i've been really struggling with a lot, but i'm trying!). gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

other fic

main masterlist

IT'S OBVIOUS NOW THAT SHE was stupid to think that he could change. it was even more stupid of her to go back to that apartment.

but, she's always been one to see the best in people — in her case, it's come to bite her in the ass.

even now, as she awaits her boyfriend to return home from his nightly patrol around the city, [y/n] knows that she should've known better.

she trembles as she sits on their shared bed, one of her legs bouncing anxiously — the thought of how peter will react to her foolish decision and the outcome from it is stressing her out, beyond words.

after how he responded the first time he found out about the truth about her father's cruelty and what she'd had to go through, she's worried of how he will react this time — it took almost everything in him to not confront her father, when he first found out.

she abruptly jumps when she hears the front door of the apartment shut softly.

a shaky breath leaves her lips, wondering if it's too late to try to hide the marks on her face and body.

but, when she hears him call out her name from the living room, she knows that it's too late — there's nothing she can do now to hide this.

and even if she wanted to for a split second, she promised peter she'd never lie to him again — after the last time, they promised each other that they'd never hide anything from the other again.

so, with another shaky breath, [y/n] sighs and hesitantly pulls the bedroom door open.

she keeps her head down, her hair falling around her face and covering the marks as she walks out and into the living room.

"sweetheart..." peter's voice trails off, eyes wide with shock and worry.

her breath catches in her throat as soon as she finally looks up at her boyfriend and sees the intense, protective look in his eyes.

"i—i'm sorry, peter." she whispers, voice too raspy to get any louder.

a flash of anger fills his eyes. "please... tell me that you didn't go back to him!" he exclaims in a quieter tone of voice as he pinches the corner of his eyes.

[y/n] flinches at the amount of frustration in his voice.

"peter, i—i'm sorry... " her voice trembles, guilt and regret quickly filling her — she just feels so stupid.

peter sighs, regretting taking his anger out on her.

his eyes immediately soften. "sweetheart, i'm sorry." he murmurs, before starting to walk over to her.

but, before he can reach her, she flinches and winces.

he stops short, freezing in place. more guilt fills him as he realizes that in this moment, she's scared of him.

"look... i—i know that i shouldn't have gone back," she whispers, tears clouding her eyes as she remembers the anger and hatred in her father's eyes.

peter's silent for a moment, waiting and giving her time to explain more — if she's able to.

"i'm... i'm so stupid, peter." she whispers, too ashamed to talk any louder.

peter's eyes widen in shock, not expecting that statement to come out of her mouth. "w—what? darling, that's not true."

this time, a tear falls down her cheek. "yes, i am. peter, who's stupid enough to choose to believe that their abusive, monster-of-a-father can change? me — it's me!"

the rambling and the self-loathing words coming out of his girlfriend's mouth becomes incredibly clear to peter as he walks over to her.

this time now, he doesn't hesitate to pull her into his chest as her voice becomes more trembling and wavering, "this is on me — it's my fault."

"it's okay now, love. don't blame yourself." he murmurs as she stops holding herself back and breaks into breathless sobs into his chest.

after a while, her crying slows and quiets down with her tears now dried on her cheeks.

she faces him and takes in a deep, calming breath as he wipes away the remaining tears away and looks over her bruises more intensely.

"i wanna kill him for doing this to you — again." the venom in his tone sends shivers through her spine — knowing what he would do to protect her comforts her.

but, on the other hand, she also knows that hurting her father isn't going to do anything for them or fix anything.

"no, peter. i know you don't mean that." she murmurs seriously.

an angry frown places itself over his lips. "no, i do."

she sighs. "okay, maybe you do. but, it won't fix anything and we both know that," she says, moving one of her fingers up to smooth out the crease in between his very furrowed eyebrows.

"it's okay now — i'm okay." she whispers seriously, grabbing his hand and rubbing soothing circles over his thumb.

you'd think from how she's comforting him that peter was the one that got hurt, not her — that's just how she is; she always finds herself taking care of everyone else, when she really should be taking care of herself.

maybe that's why they're such a good pair — while they're taking care of everyone else and their loved ones, they can trust the other to take care of the other.

"that's the thing, love. it's not okay! you shouldn't have to go out of your way to avoid him, just to protect yourself." he exclaims, ripping his hand out of hers and this time pacing around the living room with his hand now gripping his hair in frustration.

she sighs, frowning — this is exactly why she didn't want to tell him because she hates worrying him like this.

"it may not be fair, but if it's what i have to do to protect myself, then that's what i'll do — i should've kept doing that, instead of being an idiot to believe he'd change." she admits, shrugging, trying to play this all off, as if it's not that big of a deal.

"don't say that — don't do that!" he abruptly yells, turning around to face her defensively.

she flinches — once again — at the volume of his voice. "don't do what?" she asks meekly, her voice too soft.

he sighs in regret. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to scare you." his eyes are downcast at the floor, before he looks up again, the guilt clear in his irises this time.

"it's okay, peter." she gulps, berating herself for some part of her being afraid of him — after all, she has no reason to fear him because he'd never intentionally hurt her.

"it's not. i shouldn't have gotten so angry — i'm not mad at you, i promise," he says in a much more quiet voice, sighing as he sees that look in her eyes — the one that she always has when she feels like a burden and feels like she should be apologizing.

"sweetheart, don't even think about apologizing. none of this is your fault."

[y/n] sighs in exasperation. "maybe it is. i'm the one that is always making a fool out of myself by believing in the best of everyone."

she sighs when a flash of irritation shows in his eyes. "what?" he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing together.

she takes in another breath when he walks over to her and hesitantly places his hands over her cheeks.

[y/n] sighs again.

"this isn't your fault, love. know that," he murmurs, his eyes searching hers for some kind of understanding. "please, tell me that you know that."

she sighs again, noticing the tears filling his eyes — it becomes incredibly clear to her how much the man in front of her cares about her.

"peter... " her own eyes fill with tears, even spilling to her cheeks.

without another thought, he gently wipes away her tears. "promise me that you understand me."

she sighs again. "y—yes, i understand," she murmurs, hating the hope that fills his eyes. "but, i just don't believe it."

he opens his mouth to object, but she interrupts him before he has the chance to say something, "i want to. but, i can't just shut off the way i feel — i was raised the way i was and with the trauma i have gotten along the way, i can't just forget it."

more tears fills his eyes, before he moves incredibly closer to her and brings her close to kiss her forehead. "knowing you want to believe it is good enough for me."

when he pulls away from her he smiles warmly at her. "let's go cuddle now, yeah?"

the softness in his voice makes her smile. "sounds like a plan, pete." she murmurs with a nod and leads him to their shared room.

once they're inside of their bedroom, [y/n] walks over to their shared bathroom, to change into her set of pajamas she set aside earlier in the day, after she had just gotten back from her father's home — she used to call it her home, but that all changed once her once-very-close relationship with her father changed.

after she changes and brushes her hair and teeth, she takes in a deep breath and tries to mentally prepare herself for the rest of the night.

but, when she shuts off the light and opens the door, she comes to realize that the bedroom is empty.

she walks out of the bathroom and looks around, her eyebrows quickly knitting together in confusion.

and just as she's about to call out her boyfriend's name, she hears hushed voices outside of the room.

with much more confusion filling her body, she slowly walks out of their room and into the living room, only to see peter standing at the door, talking at the door in a hushed voice.

"pete? is everything okay?" she asks as she walks up from behind him.

he jumps a little in surprise, before motioning towards the door.

the blond hair of their current guest surprises her.

"oh, gwen. hi." she greets her best friend and then her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him with her chin resting on his shoulder.

"what are you doing here?"

gwen shrugs. "i just wanted to check up on you — your dad called me, yelling at me because he thought that you'd left to go hide at my apartment."

the words that come out of one of her best friends' mouth shakes [y/n] to her very core — anytime she hears anything about her father, she gets easily nervous and scared.

in a matter of seconds, [y/n] slowly pulls away from her boyfriend's body.

she knows that she should try to pretend everything's fine and as if her friend's words don't affect her, but she can't help it.

if she had a few more seconds, she'd probably fall into a state of mind where she'd completely shut down.

but, when a light touch to her shoulder by peter shakes her out of her daze, she sighs and nervously finds her boyfriend's eyes on her.

"what's going on, guys? did something happen?" gwen asks worriedly after seeing the tense look on [y/n]'s face.

peter doesn't speak. he doesn't even look away from his girlfriend — his eyes simply say that the decision is all hers.

despite the fact that him and gwen are pretty close friends, he's always respected [y/n]'s choices.

with a sigh, [y/n] turns to gwen. "i kind of had a run in with my dad earlier."

as she hears that statement, gwen begins to notice the bruises on her best friend's face.

she frowns. "are you okay?" she asks, but after a moment, she groans and rolls her eyes at herself.

"i'm sorry. that was insensitive — of course you're not okay."

[y/n] laughs, despite the seriousness of the situation. "it's okay."

gwen gives her a pointed look, not believing for one moment that what she asked was okay.

"really, gwen," she says, finding some courage inside of her. "i'm probably not okay. but... " she trails off, suddenly feeling like everything is going to be okay with the ones that truly love her by her side.

"for the first time, i think i'm going to be okay — that everything will be okay." she says confidently, moving even closer to peter and practically burying herself into his arms.

gwen smiles. "good. i'm glad."

—————

AFTER A LITTLE BIT MORE of talking, they all finally say their goodbyes and peter shuts the door gently.

they move over to the couch, peter covering them — mostly [y/n] — with one of the fuzzy throw blankets that was lying over the front of the couch.

"you doing okay?" he asks softly as she lays her face into his neck.

she smiles, feeling reassured for the first time.

she lifts her head back up to look at him.

"i know going back was stupid. i do—" before she can continue, he interrupts her with guilt evident in his brown eyes. —"i'm sorry, bug. for how angry i got earlier."

she tilts her head in confusion. "what do you mean?"

"i shouldn't have gotten upset with you. and i'm sorry for startling you. i was just worried." he murmurs seriously, frowning at her confusion.

"i just... every time i think about your dad being near you or hurting you, well, it drives me crazy, sweetheart." he says, trying to ignore the anger in his voice every time he thinks about the type of person his girlfriend's father is.

"pete... it's okay. i'm not going to go back — i learned my lesson." she says, cupping his jaw with one hand, in order to try to calm him down.

he sighs, leaning into her hand and covering it with one of his own.

"that's the point, sweetheart. you shouldn't have to be cautious and scared to avoid him, so that he doesn't act like that. it's not okay."

she frowns, wishing that she could stop him from worrying.

but, she also knows that he needs to get these feelings out and off of his chest.

"tell me, peter. what is it?" she asks, being the understanding girlfriend that he loves — no matter how cliche that actually sounds.

"i love how good-hearted you are, sweetheart. the way you always see the good in everyone, despite what they've done to you — it's amazing," he starts, pulling her hand away from his jaw to hold over one of his legs.

"and i never want you to stop being that person. but, i also hate that you have to avoid him. you shouldn't have to give up your happiness and peace."

she nods in clear understanding.

he groans again, leaning his forehead over hers.

"it's okay, peter."

he pulls away and opens his mouth to say something in defense, but she stops him by speaking before him, "peter, i know it upsets you that he doesn't get to be punished for his actions and i get that."

he stops short, giving her a chance to finish talking.

"i know you hate that. but, i know that you love me more than any urge that you have to give him what he deserves — and that's what i need you to do, okay? love me more than you hate him." he frowns at her words.

as if noticing his hesitation, she says, "for me. please?"

he sighs in defeat and nods. "fine. for you." he murmurs as he pulls her closer into his embrace and body.

she smiles in victory as she lies her head on his shoulder. "i love you, peter parker. you know that?" she murmurs, cuddling up close to him.

"i know i can always count on you." she says, once more, smiling as he chuckles and stretches over to kiss her on the forehead.

"good. because i love you more and i'll always hold you when you need it, dove." he murmurs, smiling at her calm and at peaceful face.

and like that, they cuddle until they fall asleep with peaceful expressions on their faces.

[quaintlyfig]

Having thoughts after reading @dimplyowl's posts about Izzy and Ed and their behaviors.

I mean, I've had these thoughts a lot already. I attempted to express some of them shortly after season 2 aired when folks on twitter would rail against Ed's violent behavior toward Izzy at the same time they vehemently insisted that Izzy had never done anything bad ever to Ed. I tried to craft thoughtful responses on posts of people I thought might be interested in having a conversation and open to maybe understanding a different way of understanding Izzy's behavior. I did this maybe about three or four times, and every time I was 100% completely ignored. No "thanks for sharing your thoughts," no "cool story, bro," no "get fucked." Crickets. Zip, nada, zilch.

This show is silly and serious, goofy and deep, sweet and heavy. And I like exploring both sides - being able to float in the fun and being able to plumb the depths. And I'm in this fandom to do both of those things in a safe community - which I experience in abundance each day and am so grateful for! - not to be re-traumatized by people who are gleeful and militant apologists for emotional abuse. I became very well acquainted with the block and mute buttons around this time, happy to curate my experience.

I freely admit that this is a bit of a ramble and that it won't be flawless, but it feels good to organize my thoughts.

Content note before you continue reading: Author's experience with physical and emotional abuse as it relates to their thoughts regarding Izzy Hands' character and people's dismissal of the gravity of emotional abuse. Not gratuitous, but take care of yourself, and do not continue reading if that may cause you harm. And yes, I've been to lots of therapy, for which I am very grateful! 💜

I was raised by season 1 Izzy Hands.

Filled with rage, virulently jealous, and expertly manipulative. Someone who expected me to meet their every need by existing in their fantasy world where they were the ultimate martyr, and I was the ungrateful piece of shit they bent over backwards for. Gaslighting and crazy-making were literally a part of my everyday existence.

Less frequently, this person was also physically abusive, and I feared this abuse even on the occasions it didn't occur.

Both fucked me up plenty, and I won't play the "abuse olympics" and say one was worse than the other. (And I would imagine that there isn't such a thing as "only" physical abuse - the two are intimately tied together.) I will say that in my *own* experience, which is individual to myself and probably the proportions of each type of abuse, I have found the emotional abuse to be absolutely insidious in the ways it molded my understanding of self, relationships, love, affection, communication, sex, worth, sense of free will, responsibility, and more. I am still unraveling these things even over a decade after I cut all contact with this person.

The scene where Izzy confronts Ed, who is cleaning up his cabin and wearing the pink robe, is one that really sticks out to me.

A decent number of the Izzy-apologist takes I read talked about how Izzy didn't do anything wrong when he told Ed he'd be better off dead than as a "namby pamby in a silk dressing gown pining for his boyfriend." That he only serves Blackbeard and that Edward "had better watch his fucking step." These people said that Ed could have basically let that go like water off a duck's back and never become the Kraken.

We are responsible for our own actions *and* abusers know exactly how to push your buttons, get under your skin, take you down at your knees, and to grind your face into the gravel when you're already down. They know exactly where to stick the proverbial knife to do the swiftest, most lethal damage with the fewest words. They know how to make you feel like less than nothing - that you have NO inherent worth outside of what you do and how you serve them - so that you will bend to their will.

This scene shatters my heart every single time. I think Con and Taika both get their characters so right in every syllable and micro-expression during this exchange.

And whether Izzy's manipulation is conscious or unconscious doesn't matter. Just as there are reasons, but no *excuse* for the way Ed hurts people (or that Stede or the Badmintons, etc, hurt people), there is no *excuse* for the way Izzy abuses Ed (or anyone else).

I also heard people saying that Izzy's threats were empty and Ed should have known that. No, there isn't one single thing about Izzy's threats that were empty. He brought the fucking British to the Revenge and tried to have Stede - the man Ed loves - executed before Ed's eyes.

"Are you really going to lick the king's boots" wasn't about Izzy wanting Ed to be free. Ed felt free and happy with Stede when he could be someone softer and 3-dimensional. Izzy wanted Ed to be licking *his* boots in his every choice and behavior, even if Ed was captain in name. Izzy never served "his captain" - he only ever served the Blackbeard of his fantasies. A caricature that left Ed feeling utterly hollow and contemplating "packing it all in" (which didn't mean "retirement" when he said those words).

I simply don't have time anymore for people who wish to live in their own fantasy world where Izzy is a wholly-innocent victim being preyed upon by the Big Bad Kraken. The Kraken may have been born the night Ed killed his dad, so that part of Ed pre-existed Izzy, but Izzy did say in his own dying words that he fed the darkness in Ed and needed it for himself.

I know some people have a hard time seeing Izzy as a father-type figure to Ed, as David Jenkins has said before. But I can see it perfectly clearly. He's living his life through Ed, wanting him to perform exactly as ordered, to be a two-dimensional figure that satisfies his own need to feel important and needed.

One thing I haven't seen discussed as much that I absolutely recognize in Izzy from my own experience with my abuser is his incredible jealousy of anyone else that gets Ed's attention. He does not want anyone else to be close to Ed. He wants to be the gatekeeper to Blackbeard and the only one to call him Edward. He literally tries to have Stede killed because of how jealous he is. He does not want anyone else to love Ed, and he doesn't want Ed to love anyone else. He is so deeply insecure that he cannot share him at all.

If Ed has a real relationship (of any kind, not just romantic - he and Stede start out as instant BFFs), then he is not capable of performing Izzy's version of Blackbeard and pouring all of his energies into serving Izzy's (obviously very unhealthy) emotional needs. It's a zero sum game. Izzy has to have all of Ed, or he's "lost" the game.

Izzy needs to be to needed so badly that he creates in his mind a Blackbeard/Ed who cannot function without him, and he will do whatever it takes to shove Ed back into the box he needs him in in order to keep his own identity secure. Because if Ed doesn't have to be Blackbeard, that means he doesn't need Izzy, and who is Izzy without Blackbeard? He doesn't have a stable self and so *uses* Ed to prop himself up to feel like "somebody." He has built his own identity around the fantasy of Blackbeard.

Just because someone isn't losing toes doesn't mean abuse isn't happening. Emotional abuse is real. Additionally, perpetrators of violence have often been victims themselves. (This isn't even touching on the fact that they're all pirates.) Ed can be both. These things are messy as fuck. But I will say that Izzy's abuse clearly pre-dated Ed's Kraken-era violence against Izzy by years, at least, if not decades.

I'm genuinely not sure what the perceived merit or gain is in pretending otherwise. And just as Ed is ultimately responsible for his own actions, so is Izzy.

I appreciated Izzy's redemption arc, and I cried when he died. And I think it's ok that Izzy died. And Izzy was a very skilled emotional abuser in season 1. All of those things can be true at the same time.

I know there are a thousand other ways to come at this topic and examine it. I didn't even touch the question of apologies or redemption or any of that. Nor am I going to. This was primarily a personal examination of season 1 Izzy Hands' abusive behavior.

--

Image from Our Flag Means Death Frames on twitter

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Would you mind sharing what you found unsatisfying about iwtv's take on memory?

I mean I’m a huge AMC Interview With The Vampire hater, I think it’s poorly paced, poorly written (the misogyny…), has zero real thematic coherence, and actively works to dupe its audience into respecting it with like a string of soapy surface level entertaining stuff happening and dressing it all up to sound much smarter than it is. I will be seated for season three

But my plethora of issues with the show notwithstanding, focusing on the memory thing, I feel it is employed most often to strip Louis of agency and sideline him in his own narrative. On top of that, I feel like it just doesn’t really go anywhere.

IWTV is about collecting the closest to objective record of events as possible. As the series progresses, it becomes clear that this is the way Louis is trying to take some agency back for himself against Armand. This could be really poignant and interesting, but in practice it turns more into a narrative game of team Lestat vs team Armand with Louis himself as collateral— which is strongly exacerbated by how Daniel (and other characters) mock him for being in abusive relationships.

A standout example of this is from season one, when it comes to Louis’ involvement in Lestat’s death, and how his misremembering is treated like a gotcha.

In the book, Louis chooses not to involve himself, which is why Claudia is forced to carry it out herself. Once Louis does learn, he has the choice to save Lestat or side with Claudia. So when he grudgingly sides with Claudia, the entire plot is shaped by it. At a surface level, Louis reads like a rather passive character, but he has a lot of narrative agency. Nothing would turn out the way it does without his choices, even if that choice is frequently one of inaction, or simply an internal, emotional one.

In the show he’s nominally very involved in Lestat’s death, but we keep being told he doesn’t have the stomach for it. That he’s too weak to go through with it and not idk drown in Lestat or whatever— which again, is something the narrative framing belittles. Then it’s revealed that Claudia hid the real plan from him and poisoned Lestat separately. She was the only architect of his death all along because she knew Louis could not be trusted.

Then the misremembering comes in: Louis supposedly delivers the final killing blow— but suddenly it is uncovered that he was actually letting the poison drain out of Lestat’s body. And that he actually refused to burn the corpse to give him a chance to recover. This information isn’t actually centered on Louis and his feelings though, Daniel has to be there to call bullshit on Louis’ (implicitly Armand’s) version of events. And then season two even goes so far to confirm that Lestat couldn’t have died by fire anyway, because he has the blood of Akasha. Saving him from the incinerator didn’t even change anything!

So Louis was only superficially more enmeshed in the events shaping the plot, to then be separated from it entirely. Meanwhile there’s very little narrative interest in what it actually means to him, to have believed and felt a certain way about a very pivotal moment in his history, and to have had that entirely upended. Louis’ experiences and interiority, what he is going through beyond searching for a narratively defined as impossible objective truth, don’t actually matter to the narrative.

Another example is how the show frames Louis’ recollection of the physical violence in his relationship with Lestat. In season one we get to see this really OTT physical abuse (side note: I do get the sense that the show can’t really grasp abuse that isn’t so in-your-face. There’s a supposed dichotomy next to Armand’s memory wiping and manipulation but even that is taken to such an unnuanced extreme.)

It’s really gruesome, and the show seems to really enjoy showing Louis as physically fucked up as possible every chance it gets. Then season two has Louis unearth forgotten memories about how the fight actually began because Louis attacked first. How he was the aggressor all along and Lestat never even wanted to fight.

First of all, I just loathe that framing, that actually Louis just imagined being abused— even if it’s because Armand put those memories in his mind. But also the take away is that… Lestat’s not that bad actually? I guess? Especially paired with the reveal that he actually saved Louis (but … chose to let Claudia die… but we don’t care about this I guess…)

Louis remembering things incorrectly is mostly just a vehicle for a plot twist, and also often a means to just undermine him. That’s not a cogent theme! That’s not memory being a monster.

Like where is the exploration of there being nothing left of Claudia but what Louis, and her killers, remembers of her? Nowhere because the show hates her and all women. Where is any sort of conclusion about what Daniel may or may not remember after S2 Ep5? There was room for really interesting shifts in dynamic and perspective after that… where is it? They basically return to the status quo the very next episode.

What does “memory is a monster” even fucking mean in this show? Is it that it is consuming? That these characters cannot escape their pasts that have defined them? Is it that they can never be certain of their memories, even though that is really the only lens through which they can contextualize the world/their relationships/their lives beyond it?

They don’t go anywhere with any of their choices! It drives me insane! Instead they just keep repeating a single goddamn line because it sounds smart and people go nuts for it because idk vampire yaoi. It pisses me off!

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Something I love about Exile Arc is that it focuses heavily on emotional abuse as the most harrowing aspect of c!Tommy's experience.

Like, yes, the physical torture (both c!Tommy and c!Dream have referred to it as such) started pretty much immediately. c!Dream was always very physically abusive, frequently striking c!Tommy with weapons while he was defenceless and eventually hitting him to the point he didn’t react. And that’s horrific on its own, obviously, but what Exile really focuses on is the emotional and psychological harm done, and the escalating abuse there.

It starts off with c!Dream belittling c!Tommy's feelings and thoughts, and isolating him for large periods of time. As he visits Exile more- something he occasionally didn’t do early on- he started lovebombing c!Tommy heavily, something he did to a degree beforehand with gifts but would start doing emotionally. He began manipulating him to gain his trust, presenting the absence of abuse as proof of kindness and leading him to see himself as uniquely bad, then making him feel special by portraying himself as a saviour and a trustworthy adult figure who was there to help. He began gaslighting c!Tommy about serious events, like Mexican Dream's death, and would increasingly make c!Tommy out to be the offending party and himself the victim, making c!Tommy feel guilty and wrong and ashamed, like he was the toxic party in the situation. He intentionally isolated him, lying to him and others to deliberately lead people away from Logstedshire and to keep c!Tommy unwilling to accept any help when someone did show up. Whenever anyone did while c!Dream was around, he'd worsen his abuse and drag the other person into it without their knowledge, leading c!Tommy to associate visits from anyone but c!Dream with humiliation and pain. On that note, c!Dream was very much deliberately setting rules and organising things to make c!Tommy feel humiliated and ashamed of himself, like it was embarrassing to be the victim of abuse- with infantilising and dehumanising rules, c!Tommy was treated very much like the child he hated to be seen as. It left c!Tommy desperate for any sort of validation, which c!Dream provided by making himself out to be a martyr who was the only one who cared, and he'd lovebomb c!Tommy even further when he fell into that dependence, encouraging c!Tommy to- as c!Tommy describes it himself- lack free will and become a toy, puppet, and/or pet.

Emotional abuse is often downplayed, but it's one of the most damaging forms of abuse out there. It’s insidious, and the effects of it often never go away. Many abuse survivors consider emotional abuse to be the most traumatic parts of their experience due to this, but it’s so rarely depicted as such in media. Physical and sexual abuse are considered worse or more serious than emotional abuse (and even then they’re not treated with respect a lot of the time!), when it’s far more complicated and nuanced than that with each of them causing different but deeply damaging trauma. It’s genuinely very cathartic to see a depiction of abuse that really focuses on the psychological elements, along with other stuff that’s generally not covered by media as much (such as c!Tommy not being anywhere close to a perfect victim yet still being portrayed entirely as a victim who didn’t deserve his abuse at all, or the complex feelings towards his abuse he has), and it helped me process a lot of what personally happened to me. It might be a little fantastical in some areas, but in others it’s so realistic in ways I’ve never even seen before, and I think that’s awesome.

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

Men share harrowing stories of abuse at hands of partners at historic conference in Belfast

Psychological and emotional forms of abuse tend to cause a more negative impact and greater feelings of fear than physical aggression.

That has been the finding of many studies, and it was a key theme at Northern Ireland’s first conference focusing on male victims of domestic abuse.

Dr Elizabeth Bates, a psychology lecturer at the University of Cumbria, told guests that female perpetrators used coercive control and gaslighting more often than outright violence, though it should be noted that many men have also been physically and sexually abused by female and male partners.

While most of the guests at the summit were women — possibly because they make up three-quarters of Northern Ireland’s community and voluntary workforce — male victims were also in attendance.

One man who did not wish to be named described how his former partner, who he was with for a decade, took control of his finances, sleep, food and, essentially, his entire life.

“I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I was on the edge of going over the edge,” he told this newspaper.

“I didn’t know there was this support for men suffering domestic abuse.

“To be honest, I didn’t even know if I was in an abusive situation because a lot of people think it’s [just] about physical abuse.

“Call me naive, but I had accepted a lot of things as being normal, and they weren’t.”

He began working 10 to 12-hour shifts, sometimes seven days a week, because he feared going home.

“My job became my safe place. I was getting to the point where I was just going and sleeping in the car because she would come and wake me up, start arguments and tell me I would be getting no sleep that night,” he said.

“That drained me. It was hard. The person I had loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with was treating me this way, and I just didn’t understand it.”

When the man eventually sought help in 2018, he found support was not as readily available as he had expected.

He went to his GP but found they were not a lot of help.

After that, he contacted Women’s Aid, which referred him to the Men’s Advisory Project NI (MAP), the agency that organised yesterday’s conference.

Through MAP, he was referred for free counselling sessions that he attended for 11 months.

“It was like a weight off my shoulders, just being able to talk to somebody who listened and wasn’t judgemental,” he said.

Coercive control is when a person behaves in a way which makes you feel dependent, isolated or scared.

‘Gaslighting’ is a term used to describe when someone manipulates another person, using psychological methods to make them question their sanity or powers of reasoning.

Dr Bates said many male victims of domestic abuse she interviewed had experiences with these kinds of techniques, particularly around their relationship with their children.

“She was unable to control me physically so instead controlled me using our son and my access to him,” one man said.

Legal systems and social norms can also be manipulated to this end.

One father said: “She [his former partner] regularly disobeys court orders over contact and her and her partner make regular threats to my safety in front of the children.

“The police do nothing and the court orders are not enforced by social services.”

The PSNI received 118 reports of coercive or controlling behaviour In 2021/22.

It became illegal following the passing of the Domestic Abuse Act (NI), which came into force in February 2022.

That same year, 1,297 men reported to police that they had been victims of harassment.

In many cases, a victim’s personal characteristics, such as their age, sexuality or mental capacity, will be targeted by abusive partners.

One elderly man said: “She [his former partner] convinced me I had Alzheimer’s and tried to force me to sign a legal paper to declare me incompetent.”

‘Outing’ — where a perpetrator threatens to reveal a victim’s sexuality to others, or suggests they will disclose their HIV status —is a common form of abuse in same-sex relationships.

MAP reported that 49% of gay and bisexual men have experienced at least one incident of domestic abuse since the age of 16.

Some 70% of the men the charity supports are heterosexual and have faced abuse from an intimate partner.

You can contact the Domestic and Sexual Abuse helpline (0808 802 1414), the PSNI or the Housing Executive for 24-hour support

https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/life/health/men-share-harrowing-stories-of-abuse-at-hands-of-partners-at-historic-conference-in-belfast/15469094.html

[eviltothecore13]

...Did I just see someone, in 2023, claiming that the Wesker project was "a CSA allegory"?

I mean, at least they're not claiming that it's definitively canon that he was actually sexually abused, but...

*Why?*

Like. The thing the Wesker project is most obviously an allegory for is the various kinds of indoctrination that bigoted groups use to convince their members they're superior/entitled to greatness/etc because of their race or nationalitity or anything else (not that I'm saying Umbrella or Wesker work along racial lines at all, because we know they don't, but *as an allegory*). I can't find *anything* explicitly stated in canon that is about sexual abuse, but I can find a lot about indoctrination and raising him to believe he was superior--and a lot about him being incredibly privileged all his life with phrases like "the best education money can buy."

There's no *need* for anything remotely resembling sexual (or physical) abuse to take place in Wesker's backstory. (Or emotional abuse of the "you're worthless, you're pathetic" etc kind I sometimes see depicted in fics--again, the point of the project is to convince him he's *superior!* And its canon result was someone described in official materials as "confident", who genuinely believes he's superior and is never shown to doubt himself! I do think his upbringing was emotionally *distant*/not focussed on emotions because it was only concerned with success and power and that he wasn't close to anyone except Alex and later Will--but the idea of him being constantly berated and mocked and bullied just goes against both the goals of the project, and the effect we see it's had on him. Being mocked and insulted throughout your childhood does not generally *improve* someone's confidence or their opinion of themselves!)

The goals of the project are to create someone who is physically strong and capable (note, it does NOT say anywhere in canon that he was exposed to any of the viruses, or physically experimented on in any way, until 1998--it says there were "tests of endurance" which Alex according to the English translation viewed as "hellish", though in the Japanese files it's more like "rigorous training to improve their mental and physical abilities". Either way suggests more an elite/extremely challenging and difficult perhaps military-esque physical training program, rather than "strapped to an operating table and injected with stuff". Prior to 1998 there is *zero* canon indication that he was anything other than human with a lot of training physically.), highly intelligent, academically successful, ruthless, ambitious, a good leader, and fully convinced of the ideology that they are superior beings and the majority of people are inferior etc.

Starving someone, beating them, sexually abusing them, keeping them *so* isolated that realistically they would panic in a social setting/struggle to hold a conversation rather than being a highly charismatic and confident master manipulator who's very skilled at figuring people out and getting them on his side (like, I don't think he was around people enough to *form close relationships* with anyone other than Alex as a child, but he needs to have had a reasonable amount of interaction with a variety of people to develop the skills at leadership and at manipulating people, deceiving them, gaining their trust, getting them to like him, etc that he canonically has to a high degree! he is not going to acquire those skills if he is locked up in a cell in an underground lab), are all either unnecessary or outright counterproductive to these goals.

We know that, on average, even though only 13 of the hundreds got past the final stage of selection (and yes, it is confirmed to be multiple stages of selection and not "they're the only ones who survived to adulthood" as I've seen some people claim) to be given the virus, the Wesker children were generally more successful than the average person. (We can tell this just because 13 out of a few hundred were considered just as good as Wesker--who got a PhD at 17. That is more people, in the space of a short time, getting a PhD at 17 than IRL achieved that through *the entire 20th century*. And the people who did that IRL weren't doing intense physical training on top of that... or for that matter learning to become leaders or master manipulators. The project wasn't successful at creating loyalty or obedience to Spencer, but it *was* successful at seemingly everything else.)

Sexual and physical abuse *do not* make the victims more successful on average than people who were not abused. They tend to lead to children doing *less* well academically (very hard to learn when under stress and even more so if also in physical pain, difficulty concentrating, memory issues--trauma can lead not just to memory issues *about the trauma* but memory issues about all kinds of day-to-day things...), being physically weaker and less healthy (chronic pain etc from injuries, stress affecting the immune system, shorter and skinnier if they didn't get enough food or if stress affected their appetite etc--note that both Weskers we see are above average height, in Albert's case above average height and muscular even pre-virus, in Alex's case the virus only slowed the progression of her illness and didn't give her superpowers so likely also didn't make her taller, so she is naturally 5ft10 despite having been chronically ill for much of her life... not exactly looking like childhood malnourishment here...), being less confident, socially awkward or anxious or struggling to interact with people (Wesker spent most of his life in leadership positions and was able to get everyone at STARS, without exception--and including people like Chris who generally have problems with authority--to like him and place absolute trust in him), and often burning out/not achieving much later in life because they lack motivation that isn't based on fear of punishment (Wesker is certainly motivated, and has had an extremely successful career and is then very successful with most of his evil plans once he gets into the whole supervillainy thing).

Sexual and physical abuse do not make people stronger. They do not make people more confident. They do not make people more successful. The Wesker Project *did* succeed at doing all these things.

(Yes, some real-life educational/training programs with the stated goal of making people more successful or stronger have had incidents of sexual abuse, because predators join the organisation and exploit their position... but it isn't *beneficial to the program's stated goals*--all other things being equal someone who was abused will generally struggle more to be successful than someone who wasn't--it's a failure of the program, not a case of the program working as intended... the Wesker Project was scientifically designed to set these kids up for success and power and we know *it worked*, not simply in the sense of success in a narrow area like a sport at the expense of a lot of other things, but in terms of being extremely skilled and successful at a huge variety of things and extremely adaptable and fast-learning.)

If you want a villain whose primary purpose in the plot is to be someone you're meant to feel sorry for, or who hates themself, or is depressed, etc... there are so many others in various works of fiction. Wesker is not that character and twisting him into it just seems to be making him into a different character entirely from the one canon portrays.

I know some people just don't care about canon-compliance--not just because of things like people saying "his confidence is fake and would collapse at the slightest challenge" when the official RE4 book (not a noncanon novelisation like SD Perry's nonsense, official canon content) calls him "a confident man" who likes a challenge (and it's not from his POV but from a factual/unbiased narrator), but because I've encountered some *really odd* canon-breaking things in fics that weren't tagged as AU at all. (One of the most nonsensical-seeming to me, and I wish I could spoiler this like on Discord because it does need a tw but uh... tw self-harm... had Wesker portrayed as having frequently cut himself throughout his life, including frequently doing so at STARS, including only a few weeks before the Mansion Incident, explicitly described as cuts on his wrists and forearms... even though *his sleeves are rolled up in RE1* and *you can see there are no scars there*... those kinds of scars can take years to fade, and again, Wesker was physically human at this point, they are not going to vanish in a few weeks.) But I do wish stories portraying Wesker as some kind of angsty victim had a single clear AU tag on AO3 so they could all easily be filtered out when I'm trying to find canon-compliant fics.

This is why most of my Wesker fics have been delayed for a while, I just find this fandom so frustrating at times because half the Wesker fans seem to be fans of a very different character... it's exhausting and makes me feel as if no-one actually appreciates the character I love, as he is depicted canonically in the games I love...

[redjadethewriter]

There's No "Perfect Victim" In Abuse: Interview with the Vampire

What do victims of abuse look like? 

The simple answer to this question is that they don't have a specific appearance. The truth is that abuse can take many forms, including mental and emotional abuse, which may not leave visible physical marks. While it may be easier to identify victims with visible cuts and bruises, the more sinister forms of abuse are often mental and emotional, making it difficult to recognize. However, there are certain behaviors that may be indicative of abuse, but they do not necessarily reveal a person's history of abuse.

Various people go through life with no one knowing they have been victims of abuse unless they choose to share their experiences. This applies to both childhood and domestic abuse. Unfortunately, the harsh reality is that if you are a woman or belong to marginalized communities, or even worse, a white female celebrity with fame and fortune, it is less likely that you will be perceived as a victim. Despite our imperfections and the normalized behaviors we may exhibit, it is important not to invalidate anyone's experience of abuse based on personal biases such as dislike for the person, their skin color, gender, sexuality, or differing viewpoints. Doing so would mean turning a blind eye to the evidence right in front of us. In fact, even when evidence of abuse is presented, there is no guarantee that a person will be acknowledged as a victim or receive support, especially if they do not fit society's perception of a "perfect victim" or if the abuser is more popular or liked. This can occur in any socio-economic class or societal status. 

Back in the day, films and TV shows focused mainly on the physical aspects rather than the mental and emotional aspects. However, my perspective changed when I discovered the re-adaptation of Anne Rice's "Interview with the Vampire." I admit, I initially avoided it because of the reviews that emphasized how AMC exaggerated Lestat's abusive behavior. 

The first adaptation featuring Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt did include instances of domestic abuse between the two characters, but it was subtly portrayed. However, that version was made during a time when the acknowledgment of Lestat and Louis being a gay couple was not openly discussed, although they were indeed a couple. Anne Rice even mentioned that they were a couple. They were indeed a couple who eventually adopted a daughter named Claudia, creating a complex family dynamic that was both toxic and dysfunctional. It's worth noting that both adaptations of "Interview with the Vampire" fail to highlight Claudia's manipulative and abusive behavior as well, however she’s not the focal point.  I will not even delve into the inaccurate adaptation of the source material and the world of cursed vampires in "Queen of the Damned." That version is a stand-alone, and was too straight-washed. The music was good though, but not even closely accurate to the source material.

Now, let us discuss the new adaptation of the iconic "Interview with the Vampire." Personally, I really enjoyed the changes they made when I managed to watch it. However, I had to take my time with each episode because it was quite triggering. I don't mean that in a negative way, but rather as a positive aspect, because the show effectively portrays the stages of domestic abuse, particularly when it is driven by narcissism. This is why it was so triggering for me. And you might wonder, why is this a good thing? Well, it's because it's important for people to see the mental and emotional abuse that often precedes physical abuse. As someone who has experienced mental and emotional abuse myself, watching the show was particularly triggering. But as I mentioned earlier, I took my time with each episode and gave myself breaks to ground myself. The show was incredibly well done. It was fascinating to watch the progression from the grand gestures that Lestat used to lure in Louis to the subtle displays of power.

In this adaptation, they depicted Louis as a closeted gay black man, who also was an entrepreneur in New Orleans. He was essentially a pimp, owning multiple buildings in the rough part of town where sex workers operated. Lestat showcased his power and influence by utilizing the color of his skin, in a society that was still predominantly catering to white people, to entice Louis to join him. He supported Louis financially in his endeavors and leveraged his own white privilege and wealth to sway the racist political figures who made it difficult for Louis to succeed as a businessman. This showed that Lestat held all the power in their relationship, as he understood that Louis, as a black man, had limited power and influence. Louis constantly faced discrimination from the white men in society, with whom he had to work with and smile at, despite being belittled. Lestat used this advantage to show Louis that he needed him, without explicitly saying so. Taking advantage of the death of Louis's brother, Lestat transformed him into a vampire while he was grieving and vulnerable. How could Louis make a rational decision about becoming a cursed creature that would separate him from his family and everything else in such a state?

Lestat never explicitly acknowledges the loneliness and isolation that comes with being a vampire before turning Louis. Yet, we hear him confess this in the opera house, which affects Louis deeply, because he was already questioning his relationship with him. They, from day one, had rocky moments. However, Louis holds onto that vulnerable moment when Lestat admits to feeling lonely. However, it's quite obvious that living in a world with only 200 vampires would be an isolating experience. That's why the vampires in this story seek out companionship to alleviate their loneliness. Additionally, when they grow tired of their partners, they simply find new ones, as Lestat did. But the point of me mentioning this is that Lestat uses that vulnerability to his advantage. Lestat is a keen manipulator and meets the definition of narcissism.  But how this version of Lestat became this way, who knows?

However, Lestat is a character with many complexities, much like Jekyll and Hyde. He presents himself as charming and eloquent, lavishing his lovers with grand gestures and expensive gifts. Yet, these gifts serve as a mere distraction from his inherently bad behavior. Lestat exhibits numerous instances of such behavior, particularly in the way he mistreats his victims. He mercilessly mocks an opera singer, shattering his spirit before ultimately taking his life. Furthermore, Lestat influences Louis to adopt a certain lifestyle, engaging in an open partnership due to Lestat's bisexuality. However, Lestat displays jealousy when Louis has sexual relations with other men. So, how does this even make sense with having an open relationship, if only one can engage in it? Because that’s what it looks like. That Lestat is the only one allowed to be with other people and not Louis. That’s being too possessive for my taste. Additionally, Lestat demonstrates a tendency to lash out, as seen when Louis kills a property inspector who had demeaned him through his thoughts. Instead of addressing the situation calmly, Lestat reacts impulsively. Only later does he attempt to redeem himself by asserting that he would have taken the inspector's life if he had truly insulted Louis.

Lestat continues to act poorly as a partner but tries to make amends by buying Louis expensive gifts, essentially asking him to forget what happened so he can repeat the cycle. He alternates between showering Louis with charm and emotionally distancing himself from him.  When Louis chooses not to feed on humans, Lestat mocks him, failing to fully support his choices.

Furthermore, when Louis introduces Claudia into their family, Lestat only turns her into a vampire to please Louis, even though he himself doesn't want a child. It's like giving a partner a child they desire without wanting the responsibility of parenthood. Lestat does this to keep Louis by his side, using Claudia as the means. However, Louis is still navigating his own vampire existence and isn’t the most knowledgeable parental figure for Claudia, who remains a teenage vampire with a stronger metabolism than an adult-made vampire. Claudia truly needed Lestat to step up as a parent figure, but he shied away from the responsibility. This is evident when Claudia accidentally kills her first boyfriend, and Lestat forces her to watch as he burns in a furnace. It's a heartbreaking scene, highlighting Lestat's lack of parental instincts.  When Claudia eventually leaves, escaping their dysfunctional family dynamic, it's even more painful that Lestat knows where she went and what happened to her but chooses not to intervene. He was aware of her situation through his ability to hear the thoughts of other vampires. As an audience, we are fully aware of what happened to Claudia without seeing it explicitly and the other vampire involved, which makes Lestat's inaction even more disappointing. 

Now, because of Claudia's experiences and trauma, she has undergone a significant change. She has developed the ability to manipulate and strategically outwit Lestat, almost like a game of chess. Despite being a victim at various times, Claudia has become familiar with Lestat's tactics and can detect his lies. However, Claudia's attachment to Louis is extremely possessive. In previous adaptations and the original material, it was evident that Claudia always craved affection from Louis. Unfortunately, being trapped in the body of a child made this longing all the more tormenting, as she would never grow into a woman. This is precisely why vampires in the novels refrain from turning children or adolescents. Even in Armand's story, his maker hesitated to turn him due to his young age. In the new adaptation, at least they made Claudia older, but with a deeply traumatic experience attached to her transformation. 

Remember when I mentioned the progression from mental and emotional trauma to physical? Well, the physical aspect occurred when Claudia returned home, when Lestat and Louis already had a strained relationship. This scene unsettled various viewers, but we must remember that we are dealing with vampires here. Their conflicts are not bound by human limitations. 

It was difficult to watch, especially when Louis used telepathy to reassure Claudia during a heated altercation with Lestat behind closed doors, even though things were far from fine. This reminded me of a parent trying to comfort their child during a traumatic situation, such as a physical assault. However, this dispute did not remain hidden behind closed doors. It escalated to the point where doors were crashing and walls were being destroyed. It reached its peak when Lestat lifted Louis into the sky and ultimately dropped him from a deadly height.

Despite the altercation that resulted in Louis sustaining serious injuries, Claudia took care of him during his recovery. It is likely that she blamed herself for the incident, as the fight had centered around her. In his role as a compassionate father figure, Louis endured the full force of Lestat's anger in order to protect Claudia. I understand that this situation could be triggering for many people, as it portrays the distressing dynamics of a vulnerable parent being overpowered and abused by the other. Personally, it was painful for me to witness. What made it even worse was seeing Lestat's attempts to make amends by buying expensive gifts, such as a Rolls Royce for Louis. Despite Claudia's efforts to remind Louis of what had happened, he, like many abuse victims, was enticed back into the cycle, believing that things had changed when, in reality, it was just repeating itself. 

In my analysis of Agatha in "Agatha All Along," I explored her character beyond the role of a villainess witch. I see her as a complex individual who falls into the gray area between being a villain and a hero. One aspect I discussed was how she frequently puts on a facade, using her distorted reputation to amplify her perceived level of menace and cruelty. Furthermore, I delved into the show's revelation about her troubled upbringing, where her mother served as an inadequate and abusive parent. This revelation sheds light on Agatha herself being a victim of abuse, with her mother as the one responsible for it. 

Agatha is a character who defies the perfect victim narrative. Firstly, she is a witch and secondly; she was forced to kill her coven members who had attempted to harm her. She only absorbs the magic and life force of other witches if they attack her first. It is also important to address the misconceptions surrounding the rumors that she traded her own son for the Dark Hold. It is surprising to think that she, as a villainess, was actually a victim of abuse, facing threats from her own mother and the entire coven. 

In concluding this blog, let us explore the portrayal of abuse victims in "Interview with the Vampire." Despite his identity as a black gay man and vampire, Louis may not initially appear as a typical victim of domestic and societal abuse. However, he indeed falls into that category. Another example is Claudia, who, because of her traumas and experiences, becomes just as manipulative and conniving as her maker, Lestat. It may be unexpected for vampires to suffer abuse, but they do. 

Let us also consider Agatha All Along, a white witch who has taken lives, both intentionally and unintentionally. As a villainess, she may not immediately strike us as an abuse victim. However, appearances can be deceiving. In reality, Agatha has endured the pain of victimization, betrayed by her own family and coven. Although she has also become a perpetrator, it’s crucial to shed light on her own victimhood. Understanding the complexity of these characters requires uncovering the facts and recognizing that they may not fit the perfect victim narrative, but they are still victims.

[equizona]

heyy!! can i request for ayano with a s/o who has angry issues?

˗ˏˋ YOU'RE TOXIC ´ˎ˗

— CHARACTER(S): Ayano Aishi

— NOTES: As someone who does sorta have anger issues, this was nice to get as a request.

➸ AYANO AISHI

Unfortunately, this can be a very toxic and abusive relationship depending a bit on you.

If you're more in control of yourself, and you don't have a tendency to take it out on people around you, it won't be that bad. She's more than happy to let you know that she doesn't mind and loves you despite this, and she is more than happy to clean up after you and replace anything you might have accidentally broken.

And if you break an electronic with for example game progress? Well, she always has extra copies of anything you do just in case. And if it's something she can't make a copy of, she is so good at making you feel better. She is manipulative, and she knows how to make you feel better about just about everything.

But on the case that you do tend to hurt people physically? Things may take a bit of a darker turn. Ayano doesn't really react to physical pain the same way most people do. And well, if you hurt her? She is more than happy to be your emotional outlet. Hell, she likes it. She might purposely make you angry, or manipulate you into hurting her.

And if you accidentally hurt someone else? Ayano doesn't mind finishing the job, taking the blame and hiding all the evidence. She has quite a lot of experience with things like that, after all.

Regardless, she herself might get violent with things or people that upset or anger you. But because she is so infatuated with you? She won't ever try to make you get a handle on yourself. She loves you, and she wants you to be angry. As long as you don't leave her, you can do whatever you want with her. Hurt her, scream at her, use her.

[early20sfailingplenty]

So how do you think Bo would react to your ex suddenly showing up to Ambrose? Mind you, the ex makes petty and mean comments towards you, acting like you’re below him and making you cry. I need Bo content 😭

Bo protecting you from your verbally abusive ex in Ambrose.

Went with headcanons for this one because I wanted to switch things up a bit.✨💗

TW; toxic/borderline verbally abusive ex (gender neutral pronouns used when referring to them), Bo is his own warning, crying (reader), mentions & discussions of trauma & abuse (reader), implications of past gaslighting/manipulation from reader's ex, emotional flashbacks, swearing, READER IS AS BAD AS THE SINCLAIRS (you gotta be if you're staying in Ambrose), physical violence (Bo and Vincent against the ex) and canon typical darkness.

PLEASE NOTE - I drew on my own past experiences with abuse to write this piece. I've done my best to be respectful and to not romanticise the after effects of such trauma, but this is a COMFORT PIECE first and foremost so any romanticism you may spot is fully unintentional. I can't think of anything worse than my abusers finding me, so this piece was a bit challenging to write, but it was also quite cathartic, too.

AS ALWAYS, GENDER NEUTRAL READER, NO CODED LANGUAGE, "YOU" AND Y/N USED.

Word count: 3, 0781.

(That sarcastic smile omg we love😍 but also😰)

None of the Sinclairs knew what you had been through before you had found yourself in Ambrose, but they knew well the signs of abuse and trauma, and it hadn't taken long for any of them to put the pieces together.

The way you would flinch and take a step back if any of the brothers stood too close to you, before you would take a deep breath and visibly will yourself to relax. The way raised voices would make your breath hitch and full out shouting had you sobbing. The way you took several steps back if someone approached you too quickly or with a certain Look on their face. The way you sometimes jolted awake next to Bo in a cold sweat, the sheets drenched and sticking to you. The way you walked around with your shoulders curved inwards, as if you were trying to take up as little space as possible.

There were many other puzzle pieces, and the Sinclairs had soaked them all up within weeks of you being in Ambrose.

It only made them more protective of you, especially Bo.

You had fully settled into Ambrose and your life in the quaint town and the signs of trauma and abuse which had become so normal to the brothers that they accommodated you, supported you, without even having to think about it, had just began to improve.

You could stand close to the brothers after a few seconds of careful shuffle, millimetre by millimetre, and you would always be gifted with a radiant smile from whichever brother was closest. Vincent's smile was felt by you more than it was seen, but Lester's, oh... it was like the sun shining down upon your face whenever he smiled, so beautiful was he. Bo, for his part, would always reward you with a sincere smile and a, "that's it, darlin', I ain't gonna' hurt'cha," murmured so gently and with such genuine pride that it made you want to cry. Sometimes you did, and Bo would shake his head in mock sympathy and wrap an arm around your shoulders, moving at the pace he knew you could handle without being startled, and hug you into his side. "I got'cha, Y/N. Bo's got'cha. Ain't no one ever gonna' hurt'cha again. Not on my fuckin' watch." It was a solemn oath and it fell deep into the pit of your stomach like a stone, leaving the warm seeds of compassion in its wake.

You were slowly improving, slowly healing, slowly getting better and learning to trust yourself and your surroundings again, learning to not question your thoughts and who you had always known you were, no matter what your ex said, and the Sinclairs were so very proud of you. They told you in different ways, showed you with different methods, and you were thriving under their care and your own efforts now that you weren't with your abusive ex anymore. It was a slow journey to healing, but day by day did you take it, and some days were better, easier than others. Some days were terrible and you would relieve some of what happened to you, your ex's voice reverberating in your head, and one of the brothers would find you in the bedroom you shared with Bo, your hands over your ears as you shook in the corner furthest from the door, your face soaked in tears as you pled out loud to no one for it to stop, to just stop.

It worried them sick, you worried them so much they thought they could die from the ache in their chests, but they used that to help you, but more than that, oh, they used it to help you to help yourself, too. You weren't sure which one was more important or if they were on equal grounds, and you didn't know how the brothers were so good at being what you needed, but you had seen the scars on Bo's wrists, seen Vincent's hands shake as he signed stories to you when you felt brave enough to ask a question about something cryptic one of the brothers had previously said, felt Lester's tears drip down onto your shirt like rain, and just as they had done for you, you put their puzzle pieces together.

In the Sinclairs had you found a second chance, healing, personal growth, compassion, love, warmth, and the escape you had been craving.

In you did the Sinclairs find true love, genuine connection, trust and respect, compassion and so much more than they knew how to put into words.

You had each been promised heaven by those who had said they loved you, but you had only been put through hell by those same people. Into the fires had you found one another's hands, and you had stepped out of the heat and done your best to nurse your wounds, to put yourselves back together after the world had torn you each asunder. You had each been taught that love could hurt, that those who loved you were more than capable of harming you, but you were your own people and, oh, how you would protect each other as fiercely as they would protect you.

Months ago, oh, and yet what felt like only yesterday (for your time perception had been distorted since you had come to Ambrose and the brothers had taken to leaving clocks in almost every room just to help you to ground yourself, so lost could you get in your own mind), you had run for your life, you had taken your bags and fled from your ex, and daily, nightly, did you fear more than anything else that they would find you, that they would somehow end up in Ambrose, that they would finish off what they had started. Those thoughts kept you up at night, it woke you up at three or four in the morning with a sharp gasp and a scream in your throat, and you had never been able to shake it off.

The brothers had always promised to protect you, that they would do anything to keep you safe. You were an unofficial-official Sinclair and as a citizen of Ambrose, you were under their roof and therefore their care and protection. You had come to mean as much to them as they meant to each other. You knew this, you knew it, but you were unable to fully appreciate the true extent of such until the day your absolute worst fear came true.

Your ex had, by some horrific stroke of bad luck, come to Ambrose... and they found you.

Bo was in the garage luring your ex up to the house so that Vincent could incapacitate them, and he had no idea that this person was your ex. It wasn't until he stepped behind the counter to grab a knife from underneath the fake till that your hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. Bo jumped and brushed it off with a chuckle, playing up the act as he 'dropped' his keys and ducked down, his blue eyes alight with concern and worry as he shrugged lightly, asking you soundlessly what the fuck you were doing underneath the counter.

Your face was soaked in tears, your body trembling like a fucking leaf, and you pointed up, making Bo's eyes trail in the same direction before he looked you over with a critical eye. He took in your body language, the way you had clearly dived under the counter, the abject fear in your eye, and when his eye caught yours, you formed an 'x' with your fingers and the air left his body in a rush. You could see the 'fuck' written all over his beautiful, beautiful face.

Bo raised his hand, palm up, telling you to remember you were safe. He shifted his weight, grabbed his phone out of his pocket, and handed it to you. You knew what that meant - Vincent. Bo leaned forward, pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, and whispered, "tell m'brother to come get'cha. Wait for 'im and don't'cha fuckin' move from here 'til he does. Y'got it? I'll kill 'em. I'll fuckin' kill 'em." Bo stood then. It took everything he had to ignore the way your hand shot out to clutch at his ankle. The act was back in full flow, the charm amped up, and Bo already pissed off beyond the point of being able to calm down. He was a live wire, now.

"Sorry 'bout that," He chuckled. You could hear the barely suppressed rage in the way his voice shook just slightly, "M'clumsy and had ta' tie m'shoe while I was down there."

Your ex said something and you felt bile in your throat at the sound of their voice. Bo led them away from the garage and you turned his phone over in your hands before you flipped it open and typed a message to Vincent:

Vinny. My ex is here. M'under Bo's counter. Can you please come get me?

Your hands shook and it took you six attempts to say everything you felt to be most important. You knew Vincent wouldn't deny you - you and the brothers had a system. If you were given Bo's phone, if you were given certain hand gestures and told certain things, they were all codes for what you had to do and say. It was to protect you, but it was also to make sure that everything went off without a hitch when the family business was actively happening.

The way you called him 'Vinny' was deliberate, too - you only ever called him that when you needed comfort, when you needed softness. It was yet another code word and one you knew would be understood so completely that there wouldn't be any misinterpretation.

You kept Bo's phone tightly gripped in your hand and allowed yourself to pretend that it was his actual hand, the cool metal warmed now with your body heat, and you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your forehead against them, your arms wrapped tightly around you as you tried desperately to sink into the counter, to never resurface. Oh, but your ex could come back in at any minute and if they found you... your breath hitched and you whimpered. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, but everything was coming flooding back, everything was...

Too much.

Everything was far too much.

You heard footsteps, quiet and evenly paced, and your entire body tensed. You didn't look up and you could only think 'please please please', though you knew not what you were asking for, nor to whom. You had learned the hardest way that there was no one to save you, no one to rescue you... you had to do it yourself. It never failed to hurt you all over again, but what was done was done and you were with the Sinclairs now.

Bo's phone dinged and you glanced at the screen, barely having to move from your position as you did so.

Look up.

You glanced up but did not move, and you saw Vincent crouched before you, balanced on the balls of his feet. He was a little distance from you so that he didn't box you in, conscious was he of what upset you and what didn't. Vincent's masked face was all that you could see, and you gasped, more tears spilling down your cheeks. Vincent placed a hand on one of your knees and leaned in, his other hand coming to rest on one of your cheeks. He shifted again so he could wipe your tears away with both hands, and he made a show of checking the garage for anyone around. He knew there wasn't, but you had been under there for who knew how long, and he wanted you to know that you were safe.

Vincent used his hands to sign 'safe' and then 'come with me' and you hesitated, but you slowly, slowly, slid your hands into his and let him pull you out carefully so that you didn't hit your head on the edge of the counter.

He was angry, too, but you had no way of knowing it other than what you could feel radiating off him. He would be extra careful with you until such a time as you were away, safely in your room, and then, and only then, would he allow himself to fully vent and show his anger. His rage, his brutality, his ruthlessness, had served him well over the years and today wouldn't be any different.

"Where are they, Vin?"

Vincent shook his head and signed, 'not here. Away. Focus only on me.'

You kept one hand tightly held in Vincent's as he led you to his bright yellow truck, parked just outside the garage, and only let go of you once you were seated and belted and comfortable.

He drove you up to the house of wax and together did you both move through it, your hand once again secured in his, but he didn't let you go down to the basement. No, he sent you up the roped off stairs to the wax bedroom, and there would you stay until one of the Sinclairs came to fetch you - this was yet another coded exchange, but, oh, you just wanted Bo.

You were just about to relax, gingerly sat on the bed, but the door flew open and your ex stopped dead in the doorway, the smirk you had learned to fear spread across their face.

"Jesus, fucking - look at the state of you," Venom dripped off their lips and you shuddered, feeling a panic response overcome your entire body. You whined and shrunk back into the bed until you were pressed into the headboard, trying to make yourself as small as you could. This was everything you had feared for months and you could feel yourself sliding back into who you were when you were in a relationship with your ex, "of course you would end up in this shithole of a town. I was the best fuckin' thing to ever happen to you, you absolute waste of space and - "

A sob ripped from your throat as all those familiar insults flooded into your mind just as the door behind your ex flew open and hit the wall with a muted thud. You curled into yourself, crying, shaking, and beginning to feel yourself emotionally shut down, and you heard a roar of outrage as Bo shoved your ex against the nearest wall, denting the wax with the force of the impact. "The only fuckin' waste a' space 'round here is you!"

Your ex slumped to the floor and Vincent stepped over him, his twin blades already in his hands. Your ex was caught between the Sinclair twins but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel sorry for them. They deserved what the Sinclairs were going to do to them, which would be so much more brutal than anything they usually did to their victims.

Vincent paused and glanced back at Bo. His single eye looked at you, the twin blades and then back down to your ex.

Bo chuckled. "Yeah, tha's - real nice, Vince." There was genuine appreciation in his voice as he translated for you what Vincent had just said, "He's askin' if ya' wanna watch, darlin'." Despite this and the sick grin on his face, Bo was aware of what was actually going on within you, frozen were you on the bed, unblinking and quickly losing your grip on reality, and responded for you, "They don't wanna see that. Look at 'em, Vin. Even for me, it don't seem right ta' make 'em watch. I gotta get 'em away," Bo sighed and began to walk over to you, totally ignoring your ex sprawled on the floor. Vincent was poised above your ex, waiting for his brother and you to leave so that he could rip them to shreds. Literally.

Bo put a knee on the bed next to you, and put his hands on your shoulders. "S'all right, darlin', I got'cha," He murmured. He waited until you wrapped your arms around him before he looked over his shoulder at his brother and said, "Deal wit' the bastard y'reself, Vincent. This piece a' shit ain't goin' in our town. No fuckin' way. Not deserving of it. Chuck 'em in the' pit when y're done. M'takin' Y/N outta' here."

Bo slid his arm underneath your knee and you tightened your admittedly shaky grip around his shoulders, "C'mon, Y/N, y're safe now. M'gonna' take ya' away." You tucked your face into the warm crook of his neck and Bo shushed you, "Tha's right, don't look, darlin'. Don't you look." He took you out of the room in just a few strides, and when you heard the whistle of a blade moving swiftly through the air, you whimpered and curled tightly into Bo. He shushed you again, pressed a kiss to your temple, and walked a little faster.

For the rest of the day, Bo didn't leave your side. He stayed outside the door when you used the bathroom, he was at the table when you did the dishes keeping an eye on you, he quickly put his hands over your eyes when Vincent came home covered in blood as he headed up to the bathroom to shower before he came to check on you. Bo protected you in a way which was almost overbearing, but all day did he tell you, again and again, "y're safe, darlin'," and "it's over now, Y/N", "y're all righ', Bo's got'cha", and other such things.

At bedtime, you handed Bo his phone back, and he inhaled sharply as he took it from you. "I never wanna see you that fuckin' scared again, Y/N. Ya' hear?"

All you could say was, "Thank you, Bo." Your bottom lip trembled. You had so much more to say, but no words left you. It was too much and yet nothing all at once. Bo sighed. He understood, more than even he was able to say, and he pulled you back into his arms, he brought you home.

"For you, darlin'? Anythin', any time."

Sinclairs protected Sinclairs. It was the Ambrose way, and it would never be any different. Bo was dark, dangerous, deadly, but to you? He was home. That, too, would never be any different.

[genderqueerpositivity]

I finished Irreversible Damage this weekend.

(All the TWs below)

I took notes in a tumblr post draft as I went, and it's a long mess that I'm not sure anyone wants to read. It might clean it up and post it as a review if anyone is interested.

Overall, it's a terrible book. There were a few passages that hit like a gut punch, but for the most part it wasn't a difficult read...because Shrier is so disconnected from the reality of what it is to be a transmasculine person. That book is not representative of the transmasculine experience, I'm not represented in the pages of that book.

It's about us, without us. (And no, I don't--and won't--count Buck Angel as representation of the average transmasculine experience.) Apart from a few cherry picked words from trans Youtubers and a handful of detransitioners, this book is led by the stories of anti-trans parents--this book isn't about the transmasculine experience, it's about the transphobic parent experience.

It's anti-transmasculine propaganda...and worse, the further into the book you read, the more obvious it is that the book is intended to function as a guide for parents to practice DIY conversion therapy. This is literally a guidebook on how to abuse your trans child.

Isolate them (literally move across the country if needed, states without laws that protect trans people are strongly recommended), separate them from their trans friends or other affirming people in their lives, prevent them from having access to phones or internet, never ever use their correct name or pronouns, force them to do manual labor or physical activity if possible, take away or destroy their gender affirming clothing or binders, and make the home "private" again (in other words, never let anyone find out that your child is trans or what you are doing to your child because of their transness).

If there is anyone who believes that transmasculine people don't experience a very distinct and specific form of transphobia, I would ask them to read this book.

The kind of transphobia that trans men and transmasc people face intersects heavily with ableism and sexism. Transmasculine people are heavily infantilized; it's shocking (but not surprising) how...paternalistic an attitude this book takes towards both teenage girls and women and transmasculine people, including trans people who are legally adults. It is clear that Shrier does not think highly of teenage girls and young women...they are easily misled and easily confused, lonely and desperate and self-hating, incapable of separating emotion from reality, easily influenced by social media and peers.

Shrier encourages parents to exert as much control over the lives of their legally adult trans children as possible, and to use any potential leverage available to manipulate trans adults into stopping their transition. It's obvious that Shrier doesn't view trans adults as actual adults at all, but as childish individuals who are mentally/emotionally/neurologically underdeveloped. Any neurodivergence, mental illness, or history of trauma adds tax, and is proof that a person isn't mentally competent to transition.

It is also obvious that the potential future fertility of any transmasculine person is valued more greatly than our personhood, bodily autonomy, or mental health. At no point is it ever stated that child-bearing or motherhood are optional. The possible loss of fertility is the "irreversible damage"...and whether that potential fertility is even wanted by the trans person in question isn't relevant.

There are some other WTF moments in this book too. Shrier doesn't believe that spiritual abuse is real, rather it is nonsense invented by "gender ideologues" in order to accuse Good Christian parents of abuse. Shrier comes across as anti-therapy and anti-mental health medication; she downplays depression as "the blues" and anxiety as "nerves", and goes on to suggest that those who take antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications are looking for an easy way out and simply trying to medicate away normal human emotions. She openly opposes conversion therapy bans that prevent the practice of conversion therapy against trans people, and she opposes school anti-bullying programs that teach LGBT+ acceptance.

This book is also anti-queer, anti-pansexual, anti-asexual, and to a point anti-bisexual. Shrier is clearly obsessed with the amount of sex that trans people (including minors, there are some really gross statements in this book) are or aren't having; because so many trans people identify as asexual, at one point she refers to the trans community as a "cult of asexuality". Bisexuality is considered a phase of normal teenage exploration on the way to developing an either straight or lesbian/gay identity. And if you think that lesbian/gay teens and young adults get a break in this book, you're wrong: Shrier discourages parents from affirming their gay and lesbian teens and she is clearly against GSA's in schools.

I could keep going for a long time, but I won't.

Anyway, after reading that fucking disaster, I've just started Detransition, Baby and I'm waiting and hoping for it to get good; the first ~60 pages are kind of slow-moving, more words than plot. I am interested to see where it goes though!

[dancingstarsbornfromchaos]

Some random background story headcanons I have for Evil Rick, since there’s really not enough content about his character! (And since I was encouraged to share by a lovely person)

As a young kid, Rick showed all the signs what psychiatry would later label as a Conduct Disorder (which in teenagers is called Antisocial Personality Disorder): complete disregard for social norms, delinquent behaviour (mostly in the form of skipping school, stealing and destruction of property), lack of empathy, cruelty towards animals, intimidating behaviours, open aggression. So, he was damaged goods since the very start, capable of, and very willing to, destroying and twisting everything he touched.

Being as smart as he was just made it worse. He quickly learnt how not to get caught, how to act behind others’ back, how to make sure that he could get away with it, even when everyone was aware of the kind of little monster he was. But no proof, no crime, right?

He even sent several of his classmates to the hospital through his elementary and middle school years, leaving some of them deeply traumatised in the aftermath and a couple physically impaired.

His family never did anything about it. The Sanchez struggled with money and Rick’s mother was far too busy working her three job’s to care for her son...a son she hadn’t wanted to have to start with. As for his father, the man was half an alcoholic and half a criminal and, while absent in his son’s life, he was around more and the only figure Rick could learn something from. And what he learnt was that when you wanted something, the quickest way to go around the issue was to take it, rules and consent be damned.

While his parents never physically abused him, Rick grew up in a state of complete neglect (emotional, but also material), having to fend for himself since an age when he should have been too young to even just be alone in the house.

At every new school he was sent to, he attracted the attention of the local bullies, but it never lasted. Eventually, something really nasty happened to them and everyone learnt to keep their distances, kids and adults alike.

School still felt like a waste of time to him, so he chose to focus on teaching himself what he needed and wanted to learn. And that was were most of his efforts went. While he never felt the need for a connection with other people, unless it involved causing them pain or gaining something out of it, science was the one thing that made him feel more than just anger, frustration, boredom or the need to break everything around him. Where he usually lived following a primal urge for destruction, it gave him a chance to experience what it was like to create.

He left home at 16, and his family never even thought of looking for him. He made money through his inventions and crime, usually never getting fully involved and preferring to stand aside and watch the chaos his schemes and twisted games led to.

Soon, however, all that was no longer enough. Everything he did got dull faster and faster and Earth started to feel like a prison, which lead him to work obsessively on finding a way to leave that ball of dirt behind.

Diane was a convenient opportunity. She was good-looking in a way that society approved, she was easy to fall for his lone wolf act and her will too see good even where there was none made her easy to manipulate. And, more importantly, she had enough normalcy to hide away Rick’s abnormalities too. He never loved her, nor the daughter they had together. He just got her pregnant so he could marry her and use her as a walking hideout while he kept on pursuing his own interests in peace.

The very same day he finished to build his space ship, Rick packed his stuff and left in the middle of the day, while Diane was off to pick up a 5-years-old Beth out of school. He didn’t leave a note, never looked back. And forgot about them both pretty quickly too.

In that bloodied, lawless mess that space turned to be, Rick truly thrived for the first time in his life. He turned himself into a mercenary, working for whoever managed to pique his interest the most and for whoever offered him the best chance to get creative with his work. The Federation was hardly the only one to suffer from his games and whims. Some came to say that Rick Sanchez destroyed civilizations for breakfast, if he woke up in that kind of mood. Or if he had a bit too much to drink the night before.

He met the Squanchy and the Birdperson of his dimensions, but they never became friends. They were just people he had dealt with while he sold weapons to the Rebellion, two faces who stood up just a little more in a sea of a thousands more.

Of course, his lifestyle and disregard for the consequences earned him an endless list of enemy. He was hunted down and captured, tortured in all the conceivable ways. He was almost killed several times, violated in the body and the mind alike. He lost counts of all the substances that were put and that he willingly put into his body, which by now was synthetic and part machine than human. Yet, he always came out on top, covered in blood and with that insane, terrifying tingle in his eyes shining just a bit brighter each time.

Meeting other Ricks and learning about interdimensional traveling marked a new turn in his life. He moved through different realities, took a vague interest in studying the differences in the course or history (and eventually found most of them pathetic and unworthy of his time). He even spent a couple of years living on the Citadel, hidden away in its darkest corners, always under the radar.

One thing stuck with him of all his experiences among his other selves, the same thing that eventually pushed him travel back to his own Earth, something he had never even just considered doing after having left it behind for good. The boy.

Showing up at his estranged daughter’s door, Rick quickly learnt two things: one, he wasn’t welcome but they let him stay anyway because he was bringing resources they didn’t have and, especially, because Beth was smart enough to figure that there was no denying him; secondly, his daughter’s family was no different from the one he had grown up with. A house full of indifference and neglect, where the kids were left to their own devices, no matter the consequences.

His 10-years-old Morty turned out to be nothing like Rick had been as a child. He was weak, easily scared, too full of stupid hopes and dreams, craving to be nurtured and given the affection that none of the people around him was willing to offer. He was pathetic, even, a crying, shivering mess. And yet, Rick didn’t miss it, the spark of strong willpower and stubbornness that would have allowed the kid to thrive just as Rick himself had done, if properly cultivated.

Useless to say, Rick didn’t hesitate to completely take over Morty’s life. It wasn’t like there was anyone to stop him or to worry or give a damn anyway. He planned on breaking the kid into pieces, literally and figuratively, over and over and over, using his own horrifying experiences as a guide. He would have forced him to accept that there was nothing in his life, in his universe but Rick. Then he would have put him back together, shaped him and molded him into something as resilient as Rick’s own wrecked life had made him. A sharp tool, a deadly weapon, a helpful sidekick. And, perhaps, one day, a partner. Because, whether or not he was willing to admit it, Morty was the first and only person Rick was ever able and ever wished to truly connect with.

[juliabohemian]

oh dear

I have noticed a number of posts circulating which imply that ANY character being mean to Loki EVER and for ANY reason = abuse.

I will admit that I initially felt mostly irritation at what appeared, on the surface, to constitute such a complete and utter lack of critical thinking. What I’ve realized, though, is that people who make such posts definitely believe what they are saying. And like everything people do and say, there’s a deeper reason for it. The fact is, traumatized characters attract traumatized fans. And not all of those fans are in a good place, emotionally. And those people are perfectly valid, even if the conclusions they draw are not.

When it comes to fiction, good characters are complex. That means they are conflicted and flawed. They make mistakes. They lash out when they are afraid or hurting. They sometimes hurt other characters. Loki fits that bill very well. It’s one of the reasons he is so popular. Not just with traumatized people, but with people in general. He’s relatable.

The problem comes when fans relate to fictional characters, but really aren’t conscious of why, because they aren’t all that conscious of themselves. They haven’t done a whole lot of self-reflection. Maybe because they aren’t ready, because their trauma is too fresh. Or maybe they are still living in crisis and don’t have the freedom to self-reflect. Those possibilities are all valid.

But very often, when a person goes through trauma and doesn’t have the luxury (and yes, it is a luxury) of working through it, their reasoning skills can become flawed as a result. Trauma, especially childhood trauma, tends to have a negative effect on our ability to socialize and form intimate relationships, because it damages our ability to interpret the intentions of others. We call this hostile attribution bias.

The problem with hostile attribution bias, is that it makes it difficult to tell when people genuinely mean you harm. If a person’s words, actions, or facial expressions are ambiguous in any way, they will be interpreted as being hostile in nature. This keeps one on the offensive, constantly, always anticipating the next blow. Very often, no such blow is coming. But it doesn’t matter. Fear is real, and the experience of it is real.

It stands to reason that someone who struggles to interpret the intentions of real-life people would also experience the same difficulty with fictional characters. For instance, fans who identify with Loki because they perceive him as being a victim will have a hard time seeing him as anything else. Thus, anyone who harms Loki in any way is just further proof that the universe is against him and always will be.

This is referred to as an external locus of control. It means that a person sees life as something that is happening TO them, and that they are powerless to affect the outcome. It’s also important to note that people with this mentality struggle deeply to heal from their trauma. They are stuck in a sort of Groundhog Day scenario, living the same thing out over and over again. Because of their flawed perception, everything that happens to them feels like an extension of that initial trauma.

So, it would make perfect sense that a person with a history of trauma, who suffers from attribution bias, and who has an external locus of control, would be extremely uncomfortable watching anything bad happen to Loki. In fact, it would probably be traumatic for them.

And while their feelings and their experience of those feelings are 100% real, their perception of reality is not entirely accurate. In other words, what they think is happening is not necessarily what is happening.

Loki’s initial trauma, believe it or not, was just being abandoned as an infant. Even though he can’t remember it, that experience alone can result in lifelong emotional struggles. In real life, we refer to this as an attachment disorder. A person with an attachment disorder usually develops major issues with abandonment. They also suffer from (wait for it) attribution bias. And that bias absolutely affects their perception.

Loki’s next trauma was being raised in a dysfunctional family. Not only were they dysfunctional, but they weren’t a very good fit for Loki. Loki was a quiet, contemplative person. He was a thinker, an intellectual. He would rather read or do magic. So, not a good fit for Asgardian society. The combination of Loki’s initial trauma, with his inherent temperament, and his dysfunctional family is what led to the inevitable breakdown that is regarded as Loki’s “villain” arc. I’d like to point out that, in reality, such a person would have probably suffered a breakdown much sooner than that. Typically, prior to reaching adulthood.

Loki’s next trauma was encountering Thanos. Now, we have no idea exactly what happened between Loki and Thanos. We know only that it wasn’t good and that it resulted in Loki being absolutely terrified of him. Other than that, details are fuzzy. I think it’s fair to assume that whatever mistreatment Loki endured probably qualified as torture. Whether it was physical or psychological, we cannot know for sure.

While Loki’s Thanos-related trauma was NOT an extension of his family-related trauma, his decision to entangle himself with Thanos was a product of that trauma. By which I mean that his willingness to align himself with someone like Thanos came from a place of desperation, and a desire to prove himself to someone who he perceived as being qualified to validate him.

So, fast forward to the LOKI show. Our version of Loki never returned to Asgard in chains, was never told that it was his birthright to die, nor endured any gaslighting from Ragnarok-Thor. He never got his neck broken by Thanos. He never went through any of that. He arrived at the TVA, fresh off his failed attempt to take over planet Earth. He was all fired up and defensive, as anyone in his situation would probably be.

Now, here’s where we need to put our critical thinking caps on. Because, I hate to tell you this, folks...but unlike most of the Loki content we’ve gotten prior, this content is actually well written. It’s VERY well written. And while it might be tempting to respond to it with pure emotion, it is imperative that we don’t abandon all logic and reason. This show is not an extension of the gauntlet of trauma we’ve watched Loki endure since he first appeared on screen. The creative minds involved in this venture ALL care deeply about Loki’s character and want to see him succeed (whatever that means for him).

Enter Mobius. He’s a cog in a very big machine. He likes to think of himself as being more than that. He establishes a rapport with his boss in the hopes of distinguishing himself from his peers. His interest in his work is personal. He likes what he does.

From Mobius’ point of view, Loki is an asset. He has information that could help solve the bigger puzzle. But Mobius exists in a world that affords him access to multiple realities. He has probably met dozens of Lokis. And he has probably seen hundreds of people casually pruned or executed or reset. It’s just part of the world he happens to be in. And he doesn’t question it, because he has been brainwashed.

So, does Mobius attempt to manipulate Loki? Absolutely. Just another day at the office. And it works, because he knows Loki better than Loki knows himself, has studied him and other Lokis. And it’s hard not to be mad at Mobius for causing Loki pain. Especially when that is followed up by Loki eagerly taking Mobius up on his offer to help track down the other Loki variant.

I think some people might find Loki’s enthusiasm disconcerting. And there are certainly aspects of it that can be considered such. Loki, at his core, just wants to be told that he is doing a good job, that his contributions matter. That part of him is definitely a product of trauma. But is Loki motivated entirely by his trauma? Not really. Despite his manipulations, Mobius offers Loki the closest thing to warmth and compassion that he has seen for a while. Some of that is genuine and some of that is not. And faced with the reality that everything he knows is gone, Loki does what most people in his situation would do, he tries to be productive. He gets busy. He distracts himself. Because at the moment, little else is under his control.

Despite all of that, you simply cannot have compassion for Loki and none for Mobius. Because Mobius is a victim too. He was abducted from his own reality. He is living a lie. He is part of something that, upon deeper reflection, he realizes he doesn’t agree with. He is so very much like the Loki we first met in 2011. He is such a well-written and multi-faceted character, I thoroughly enjoy his on screen time with Loki.

But I understand that there are people who are not in a place, emotionally, where they can overlook such plot devices. And I sincerely hope that those eventually people find healing. In the meantime, let’s try to remember that this is a work of fiction. And unlike real-life trauma, when it becomes upsetting, we can turn it off and walk away.

[couchpotatoaniki]

Stories From Alternate Universes: Yandere!Hongjoong

To understand the storyline of Dr Gertrude, please read the Stories From Alternate Universes; ATEEZ Version (headcannon masterlist).

To understand the Yandere storyline, please read the Eight Yandere Stories From An Alternate Universe (Yandere!ATEEZ headcannon masterlist)

Warnings: yandere behaviour, mental health issues, manipulation, blackmail, violence, stalking, taking photos without consent, taking advantage of the vulnerable, suggestive, mentions of drug dealing

Word Count: 3.5k+ (not including Doctor’s Notes)

A/N: Please do not take pictures of people without their consent, since this can cause a lot of paranoia for the person/people in question (a close friend of mine had experienced this and I really wanted to raise awareness). If someone does take a picture without your consent, tell them to delete it--don’t back down if they call you names or say that ‘it’s just a picture’. This simply shows that they are not respecting you or your comfort zone, and are therefore a trashy person. Also, in no way am I trying to romanticise yandere behaviour or any sort of manipulative behaviour at all.

Doctor’s Notes:

Kim Hongjoong appears to be a very intelligent human being, though seems to abuse this power in order to manipulate his victim. Some behaviours and characteristics I’ve noticed while studying him are as follows:

Does not use physical force when it comes to situations surrounding his victim (be it themselves or those associated to them), but uses mental control instead

Tends to observe the situation first (and everyone in it) in order to gather information first before making any rash moves

Leans more towards manipulating his victim rather than the situation itself, but the latter method is not uncommon

Through intelligence gathering, he is able to understand people’s body language well (mimicking the superpower of mind-reading extremely well) and can act accordingly

The previous point refers mainly to blackmail and further manipulation

Desirable traits--such as humbleness and benevolence--generally shown at face value, though there is evidence of narcissistic behaviour behind closed doors

Exploits any opportunity for his victim to show emotion in order to pursue his passion (like an experiment)

His victim appears to be somewhat aware of these behaviours, but does not know the extent of the issues

Appointed Nickname: The Shrewd

For more detailed information of His Story, continue reading

His Story:

From the moment he was able to grab things in his soft hands, Hongjoong had shown a great interest in the arts. Suppose it’s not surprising at all he became an artist, letting the ideas and pictures in his head taint the graceful white canvas. And to him, you were perfect.

Basic enough to blend into the crowd, but unique enough to stand out to him. His muse, who made him feel more like an artist than anything. More than the paintbrush that spread his emotions across the material with each stroke.

Problem was, you weren’t all that keen on being his--or anyone else’s for that matter, since you had other plans in life rather than being a trophy for someone to fawn over.

You were a barista, making coffees and teas, alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, all sorts for your customers. Owned a small business, a café in the morning; by night, a bar. It was your dream to create things people loved--and with your lack of ability to cook contrasting with an unusually on-point sense of smell--this was the best business you could have possibly gone into.

Hongjoong was going through a slump in creativity the night he found your little place. The relaxing image, the fresh air surrounding it, had drawn him in like a moth to a light.

Then, at the counter, he saw you.

Great big grin on those soft-looking lips, you greeted him, taking his order--Aviation, the cocktail was called. It was a rather pretty drink, the cool liquid cloudy with a beautiful lavender hue to it. Gin wasn’t particularly his favourite, but he was so lost in your beauty that he chose the first thing that his mind could grasp.

That was how he associated you with the earth and the sky.

Through the flower garnish and overall look of the drink, you became his world, suddenly finding endless ideas and concepts--feelings he could pour out into his bits of work for his next gallery.

Every day, on your shifts, he was there, eager to talk to you. Quickly became a regular, just to drink in the sight of your pretty face and beautiful aura. Jokes passed between the two of you, about him being an alcoholic or caffeine addict, about you being the reason for it because your drinks are just too damn good.

It was towards the end of your night shifts that talks began to get deep and personal. When many of the customers were gone and the alcohol began to settle in. For you, it was like talking to a friend you never had--one who had such a unique outlook on the world; more like a breath of fresh air than most drunks you usually had to interact with.

For you, Hongjoong was kind, insightful, willing to talk about anything and everything--and you could relate all too well since the two of you simply clicked. A compliment of personalities, making it very easy for you to be comfortable, to be yourself, around him.

For you, he was humble and sweet, gifting you small little trinkets as an act of friendship (or so you assumed), keeping you company during off-peak hours, helping you handle customers that were a tad too difficult for a single human.

For you, Hongjoong would say anything, do anything, be anything.

Yet none of it seemed to work, for he was just your friend.

Eventually he grew frustrated, painting his emotions in reds and blacks and greens and blues onto the canvas one day, a piece for his upcoming gallery. The anger, jealousy, sadness that accompanied love--everything he had grew to feeling when you made no move to show your romantic interest.

Overlooking his finished piece, he realised that he had to do something more... direct.

Your day shift ended twenty minutes ago, yet you were still inside, deciding to end it with a coffee with your favourite patron. This had become more routine now that you began to grow familiar with Hongjoong--or the persona he put on; at the end of your shift, be it day or night, you would take half an hour to simply talk with your soul-friend who appeared to know you more than anyone else.

Right now you were talking about an experience you had while camping out with some old companions, where a friend had burnt their hand--prompted by Hongjoong showing you a little injury on his arm that was sustained from the wax he was working with.

“Wow, your partner must be lucky to have someone so handy with a first-aid kit,” he chuckled, knowing very well what you were about to say next.

Shaking your head, you waved him off. “I don’t have a partner, but thanks for the compliment.”

“Really?" he questioned, feigning perplexity. "How come you don't?"

Fiddling with the rim of your cup of coffee, you sighed. "Maybe it just wasn't written for me. People are just..." You took a breath, inhaling the right words along with the lingering smell of freshly ground beans in the air. "No matter who I talk to, they just... they don't fill that hole that needs to be filled. They just don't have what I want."

"And what do you want?" His voice was soft, gentle, like a mother's warm smile.

Encouraging.

Chuckling, you took a swift swig of your toasty-warm drink. "First time anyone's asked me that."

"What you want?" Hongjoong scoffed, copying your action and had sipped on his heavenly liquid. "No wonder you can't find the right person."

Cheeky smile pulling at his lips made you chortle, the silliness of your friend bringing a kind of ease to your mind. "What I want is... an equal. I don't want to mother someone--I just want to grow alongside my equal. I want to work and enjoy my freedoms without having to lose too much just for someone who doesn't even know if they can fully commit to me, if they can treat me properly. I want to love and be loved--is that too much to ask for?"

Tenderness in his eyes, Hongjoong unwrapped his hands from his cardboard cup to warm your own up. “Well, I suppose in this world, it actually is too much.” Tracing his lip with his tongue, he chuckled. “Perhaps the whole thing about marrying your best friend is your best bet. Could be with someone who enjoys being with you. Cares for you because you’re you.”

Head tipped back from laughing, you pulled your hands away to pat his head. “Thanks for the advise,” You took it as a sweet little thought, rather than what he was truly trying to insinuate.

“I’m not joking, it’s a fairly reasonable idea!”

“Then do you suggest I should try dating a friend?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel that passion--”

“How would you know if you’ve never even attempted it.” Sighing, he straightened his back, seriousness in his body language but playfulness in his gaze. “Try me. Try dating me--” he saw your mouth opening in protest, instant tension in your shoulder “--and it doesn’t even have to work out. Just to make you warm up to the idea of being with a friend. You can always drop out of it any time you feel too uncomfortable--but you gotta get out of that comfort zone once in a while for it to take effect.”

Right now it was all sweet talk. All to coax you into agreeing to be with him. Like hell he’d actually let you go--not when you were his job seemed all that more interesting with you in his life.

But he let you sleep on it--like you could actually get a wink of rest with such an important thing to decide. Ultimately, you thought it was a good experience, so when he returned the next day for your night shift, you said yes.

Hongjoong was over the moon, giddy and excited to be your official boyfriend. Finally, he and his muse could be together--and he wouldn’t let anything rip the two of you apart.

So, for the first month or so, he was set on showing you the ideal person for you. Someone who would let you grow in your own space, and although he hated that lack of control, he let you be so you could settle properly with him.

So you could fall as hard for him as he did for you.

By the time November rolled around, the two of you had been dating for just over three months. During that time, the time you had spent certainly changed your perspective on dating; Hongjoong may have been a great friend, but he became the poster-boy for boyfriends--attentive to your needs, caring, sweet, gentle, supportive, never crossing the boundaries you had set.

You couldn’t recall when it was that your heart began to speed up at the sound of his laughter, nor the unrest in your fingers once noticing his messy hair, nor the twitch of the corner of your lips when you thought of a past conversation.

All of a sudden, your unoccupied time was spent on the two of you, contemplating what to do for your next date or brainstorming ideas for food you could share while you were hanging out at his place, watching the artist in action. It was all so gradual, not realising you romantically liked a good friend of yours.

Not understanding you were tangling yourself more and more in his web.

Hongjoong felt that now he could perhaps peel away the fake persona he had put on, knowing you’d be a lot less likely to leave him now that he could see you change slowly. Making more time for him, talking to him more, laughing a lot more in his presence.

So, he did. Gradually, he began to voice out certain things. The first few times were rare and far between, less like commands and more like alternative suggestions. What would look better for a party. What would be nice dish to cook for dinner. What would be a good time to work.

Then, as the months went by, the rare alternative suggestions morphed into frequent requests. Could you wear this instead? Could you have this specific hairstyle? Could we cook this today? Could we go out tonight rather than tomorrow?

Yet he never forget to add that phrase, 'but the choice is yours in the end'.

Hongjoong was smooth about what he was doing--and although you could feel this slight pressure, you believed that’s what was normal in a relationship. After all, they’re just simple asks... right?

Sunlight showered through the window, curtains drawn as to let the natural light seep into the room. You were still cocooned in the covers of his bed, and so was he--though only one of you were asleep.

“Pretty,” he whispered to himself, hand reached out to brush against the warm flesh of your cheek until it stopped mid-air. This sight was too pretty for him to touch, a snapshot of you like this was needed to imprint it forever in time.

God knows how many pictures Hongjoong’s taken of you. Out in the open or behind closed doors. With you aware of the camera’s presence or not. All the evidence tucked away in a metal box, in a hidden corner of one of his storage lots to store his artwork.

Though you were knocked out after last night (you and him spend the time intimately, with skin bare against each other whispering sweet things into the heavy air of his bedroom), he still liked to pepper you with compliments that deserved to be said only to you--after all, you were the only one who deserved it.

Hongjoong couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take a picture of you--and he did so, swiftly. “Beautiful, my love,” he whispered as he nuzzled into the nook of your neck, turning off his phone and placing it carefully on the bedside table.

He'd print it out later and delete any evidence.

Grunting came from your chest as you shuffled closer to the warmth of his body, your unconscious state finding the blanket wrapped around you from shoulder down was not sufficient enough and must seek out the comfort he could provide you.

As much as he hated to do so, Hongjoong rubbed his hand up and down your cold arm to wake you up, check up on you after yesterday’s ordeal.

A good friend of yours since primary school had said they didn’t want you in their life--to put it in a nicer, shorter way than what was actually said. If there were signs of a rift between you, then maybe it would have been easier to come to terms with.

But no. It was sudden. Very, very sudden.

Maybe that’s why you were in such a confused, dishevelled state when Hongjoong opened his front door.

Already briefly explaining to him what had happened on the drive to his place, you wasted no time to press yourself into him, lips locked and tears streaming down the red-hot skin of your face and neck.

A slight clench in his heart made him falter momentarily, not liking how weak you looked--but it was necessary.

She was trying to take his muse away from him, away from the artist who was the only one that could bring out your true potential on a canvas. What else could he do but use her past of drug dealing against her?

Then again, he didn’t mind this--you being so frail in front of him (so long as it was him alone). Any emotion you felt had subsequently made him feel something too; you being in pain had caused him the same and that was perfect inspiration for his works.

Feeling hurt was better than feeling nothing.

But right at that moment, his precious needed some love. Who was he to refuse you when you wanted to drown yourself in him? To have him because you lost the closest friend you had?

“Wake up, my love,” he mumbled into your shoulder, accompanied with the fluttering of soft, gentle kisses imprinting themselves onto your supple flesh. Groaning, you shook your head ever so slightly in your fatigued daze before falling right back into your dream land.

One which he hopes is full of him, since his are always brimming with you.

So he slips on top of you, covering you with his warm body and even warmer lips until you finally open your beautiful eyes. “Hongjoong,” you muttered, lazily returning the ones he plants on your mouth.

“Wake up,” he repeats.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Because...”

He sees the sadness in your eyes and wants to take another picture. Of this gorgeous representation of the true blues.

“Because of what happened yesterday?”

So he presses your chin between his index finger and thumb, pointing it in the air so that he has your undivided attention. “Words, my love. I can’t know if you don’t use your words.”

No words passed your lips but the exhausted, downcast sight was more than enough of an answer for any person asking.

Except, not for Hongjoong. No, he wanted you to say it. Let it hang in the air so that you 100% understand and come to terms that this friend of yours is gone forever--but to also remind you he is still here.

Tearing up at remembering the exact events that occurred just after closing time, you spoke in a monotonous voice. “Yes, it was because of yesterday.”

Water streamed from the corner of your eyes, disappearing in your hair from the angle your head was at. But this look, this void in your expression despite the eyes full of feeling--this he loved to see, to burn into his memory.

They say eyes are the gateway of a person’s soul, and he can examine what exactly your soul is going through.

And he likes what he sees.

That was the first incidence. The next few were perhaps just as hard, though for different reasons.

Friends, family, co-workers. Your boyfriend didn't discriminate.

If they were a threat to your relationship with him--be it directly or indirectly--he was sure to remove them through various means of... persuasion.

One time, Hongjoong's blackmailing hadn't worked (regardless of his meticulous calculations) and your cousin was still trying to strip you from his life; in a less metaphorical sense, he found out about the pictures he took of you decided that the artist was too dangerous for you to be in a relationship with.

Your cousin didn't care about Hongjoong's threats.

He should have.

Because now you didn't believe a single thing he said. Not when you saw what Hongjoong had on him. However, one could say there was a slight miscalculation that arose from this situation.

Suspicions of how Hongjoong got those pictures of your cousin clouded your mind like mist. Yet, when you brought this up (as he was now the most trusted person in your life, a goal of his accomplished), he simply turned the question into something else.

Twisted the words so well that even you had forgotten the main purpose of asking him.

And so  the mist cleared... for the most part.

“Hongjoong?”

His eyes flickered between you and his current piece. “Don’t move, my love,” he breathed, hands steady as he painted your lips with watercolours.

Not wanting to ruin his hard work, your lips stayed pressed into its previous expression, eyes no longer looking at him. but at the floor as you put on this shy persona he requested for.

Before you met him, the idea of being painted sent unpleasant shivers down your spine--the thought felt very narcissistic in your opinion, but when he kept insisting that you were his muse? Well, there were only so many times you could refuse him.

By now, the two of you were married for five years, and this situation was common--but this particular one was not. After all, no one could miss the enormous baby bump you had to carry.

Twins, the doctor said.

Of course, Hongjoong wanted to paint this milestone--as he did with the previous ones that now appear to be insignificant, paling at the sight of you. Watercolours, specifically earthy tones, was a specific concept he had in mind, for reasons you couldn’t completely grasp yet.

“Okay, my love,” he groaned as he stretched his back, ready to move onto your torso. The part he was most eager to perfect. “What was it?”

Mouth opening and shutting like a fish, you ultimately decided on a sweet smile. “Nevermind.”

As it left your tongue, your husband sighed, throwing his brush and pallet onto a nearby surface before coming to kneel in front of you, fingers interlocking with your own. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

When you did, one of his paint stained palms lifted to caress your cheek, more full than before from the changes your body has had over the course of your pregnancy.

“There we go,” he smiled. “Now, tell me what you were going to say?”

“I-It was nothing, Joong. Really.”

“If it was ‘nothing’ like you said, then you wouldn’t have interrupted me, now would you? Now, tell me, my love. Tell me what’s wrong.” There was something about his expression as he looked at you that gave you a bit of on unsettled feeling.

“I-It’s just... Angela.” At the mention of your employee’s name, Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

Then it was gone, just like that.

“We’ve gone over this--”

Running his tongue against the inside of his right cheek, he sighed, letting his head hang loose for a moment before bringing it back up to look into your concerned eyes once more.

“Yeah but it’s just strange. First it was my cousin, now it’s her. I’m just unsure about how you got this information--is there something you’re not telling me?” Obviously, you didn't want to out-right ask if he had a PI on the people in her life, but the implication was there.

Hongjoong didn't like it at all.

“My love,” both hands dropped to cradle your pregnant womb, “I want you to remember one thing and one thing only. Can you do that for me?”

A nod from you, but you quickly caught yourself. Hongjoong wanted you to say what you want--he always has. “Yes.”

“Good... I want you to remember that I love you and our unborn children. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to save you all from harm.”

Of course, what he meant by harm was being taken away from him--but that’s a minor detail. He truly cared for you, and as fickle as emotions can be, he is so sure that this was it. Set in stone, like a statue.

“Okay,” you replied, and that was that. At least he gave you an answer, as cryptic as it might seem. Besides it wasn’t like this was unusual for you now. Already grown into accustoming into his ways, moulding yourself like clay over the ongoing course of your relationship.

Perhaps it was your hormones or the babies summersaulting in your body, but your stomach churned at the feeling of his gentle hands rubbing your bump. Like his touch there could have had a double meaning. As if he could not only protect them, but also hurt--

No.

Not Hongjoong.

He loved you three too much for that.

The only thing he loved more was his job--the two of you often joked...

It was a joke...

Right?

☕︎ Tag list: @yunhobabygurl ,

[the-ghost-king]

love seeing ur tags on my posts it means i get to think 🥰🥰 anyway mostly agree but at least to me nico’s constant need to prove himself is a sign of feeling like he’s not worth other people’s time and effort and he has to MAKE himself worth it. he does all he can in the hopes that people will notice him and tell him that he’s good enough because he relies on the approval of people he loves. he thinks love is something conditional for him and that he always has to be earning it because he doesn’t have enough worth to have it just granted to him. again this is more my own interpretation of his character and possibly a bit of projection

(Post)

I will not fail to acknowledge that I might also be projecting somewhat onto Nico, what is media but self reflection? I think there's a couple ways you can see Nico that are canonically "correct"

What I personally think happened with Nico is that he was aware he was worth more than the treatment he was receiving, but because so much rejection occurred he eventually just assumed he was the problem. There's things on this I would rewrite now but it holds up okay in what I'm about to try and explain.

The thing about being rejected is that the first time you argue it's the other person. And the second time you'll argue it's still them. If you're still arguing it's other people the third time, maybe but it's thin ice... But eventually you just have to accept that you're at fault.

I think this is something that really describes Nico. He is never able to nestle himself in the comfort of sameness after a certain point. He is not given authority in his own story in the beginning, he is thrust into solitude, he is told he is a monster already and if not then he has no choice but to become one.

And he takes this blame upon himself, believing that it's him who has to prove himself. He doesn't acknowledge that maybe other people have their own biases against him, he says "I have to prove them wrong," and then does his best.

It's important to note that Nico is definitely grappling with Childhood Emotional Neglect, he's in a broken situation- and he recognizes that nobody wants him around, and that he's just more stress for an already stressed group of people, so he just backs down and starts to figure stuff out for himself. We see him accept some help and friendship from The Stolls in TTC but eventually he stops doing this at some point.

His leave from camp and time with Minos is when he is used:

you unknowingly wear your heart on your sleeve and people will see this and take advantage of your trusting nature and unconditional love and they’ll never really love you they’ll just see you as an easy tool to be manipulated and used how they see fit and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing because you don’t believe you’re worth anything more than this

This is something I would say is very true about this time period of Nico's life. Minos emotionally exploits Nico, emotional neglect and abuse (possibly physical abuse, who knows) are defining characteristics of their interactions. Nico talks about how Minos will just randomly leave him for extremely long periods with no assistance, and about how when he's around he's always telling Nico to try harder, to do better, do more. Note the time he tells Nico "you have no power over me", he's definitely holding things over Nico's head. I don't think it's wrong to assume comfort is a part of that, Nico is alone all the time at this point, and I'm sure he's starved for touch, and support, and connection- and he will take whatever he can get whether or not it is good or right.

At first he doesn't do anything against this, and it might be because he was so starved for attention that he was willing to endure abuse to receive somewhat a consistent form of it. I also think there's some evidence that points to the idea Nico was getting something from Minos, training and similar stuff, it's possible he was willing to form and upkeep a toxic relationship with him in order to gain experience.

However, I do disagree with "and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing because you don’t believe you’re worth anything more than this" because Nico does realize eventually that his situation isn't sustainable and that he has to do something- so he takes his narrative back into his own hands:

“Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the god of spirits! The ghost king!" "No." Nico drew his sword. "I am.” (X)

So Nico, if he ever thought he was worth the treatment of being used for someone elses personal gain, he definitely overcomes some of it here, if not all of it. Nico is manipulated and used for Minos's personal gain, but he recognizes that it's not sustainable and makes a stand for himself. And this is the first time in the series where Nico truly is able to take control of his own narrative, everything before this moment is Nico being forced, or Nico with something looming over him, Nico crowning himself is him claiming his story.

So let's consider Hades in all of this, I don't think Hades manipulated Nico to the extent Minos did- but nonetheless, he did manipulate and abuse him, and this hurt Nico more than when Minos did it. Again, in the situation with Hades this is also true, "you unknowingly wear your heart on your sleeve and people will see this and take advantage of your trusting nature and unconditional love and they’ll never really love you they’ll just see you as an easy tool to be manipulated and used how they see fit and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing". By the time Nico and Hades truly start interacting, we see that Nico's heart hasn't been fully removed from his sleeve, but it may have been lightened.

Here's the thing about the way Nico approached Hades, it's not naïve to trust family. The text in multiple places implies that Hades was around for at least a handful of years when Nico was a kid, it's not unlikely that Nico may have taken naps on his shoulder, held his hand to cross the street, maybe called him "Papa", "Dad", or "Tata" (Italian, English, old Greek). It makes sense that Nico goes to him, what doesn't make sense to Nico at first is that Hades would manipulate him. Unlike many of the other demigods, Nico knows he was a choice, and that at some point he was something wanted, so he expects some level of okay treatment from Hades. Hades loved his mother, and Hades if not wanting of Nico would have wanted Maria's wishes fulfilled, and Nico probably remembers Hades treating him warmly- or at least not harshly. The way Nico went to Hades makes sense, he wasn't expecting open arms surely, but he also wasn't expecting abuse.

Hades emotionally exploits Nico by using information about Maria, what would a little boy want more than the safety of his mother? He's so starved for human contact, who ever held him more than his mother? Who ever loved him more than her? Once Nico delivers Percy to Hades, his father crushes him, not only by harming Percy but by exploiting Nico's trust through Nico's mother- one of the things he's most desperate for.

We see Nico's heart come off his sleeve at this point, maybe not fully, but enough to where a stranger couldn't recognize it at first glance, and in a way where he has the means to hide it from most.

Except we don't see much of this, because the series is narrated by Percy- and Nico can't hide his heart from Percy.

Almost everything Nico does, everything he tries to do, is for Percy. Nico is so desperate for contact that he is pliant, but in Percy's hands Nico actually wants that contact, he's not interested in imitations of love or substitutes- he's looking for the real thing.

And Mr. Oblivious does-Annabeth-like-me Jackson isn't in any headspace to realize that a boy might like him, let alone Nico. This concern that Nico will join Luke, isn't entirely because Percy is misreading signals, but it's definitely part of it. Nico likes Percy so much that at one point he is willing to go to Tartarus if not entirely for him, then partially for him.

If Percy had realized, and rejected Nico- maybe he would have joined Luke, or at least he definitely would have been more likely to. The perception of Nico we get in PJO from Percy is unreliable, because Percy looks at Nico through the lenses of a concerned older brother, and Percy feels guilty in some way for the situation Nico is in. This gives not only a skewed, but slightly falsified narrative of who Nico is.

The original post of mine I linked, although yes, I would like to rewrite aspects of it now it holds up in the sense that Nico is always trying to prove himself, and this is a bit different than being a puppet. Nico is so starved that it is present in everything, @/arabnico gets it right:

nico’s longing is just so raw it consumes him whole and he cannot hide it at all because it reflects in absolutely everything he does and is nico’s just the means of the way for them and he settles for being it because he doesn’t think he can be much better or even deserves to it is sometting so twisted because nico has this innate utalitarian desire to be useful and to do something and to do the right thing but in the game of things he’s reduced to that puppet in the hands of fate and deities millennia older than him that see a wounded wandering soul doomed to be forever alone by a destiny so cruel it keeps him on his knees

Nico, in PJO especially, has little control over his own narrative. His mother is killed in punishment for his father's "wrongs", Nico is forced to endure this. Bianca grows tired of caring for Nico and leaves him behind, this is not Nico's fault but Nico is forced to endure the consequences of her actions. Bianca's fate is decided on a quest Nico isn't even able to go on, he is forced to endure the results. Nico then breaks the cycle, declaring himself The Ghost King, and dethroning Minos. Nico is forced to endure Hades's manipulation only because he did not see it coming, this wasn't an aspect in which Nico didn't have his narrative (he had already taken ownership of his narrative) but a blind spot in his rational.

The place where we vary is why Nico behaves this way, we can agree that it's because he's starving for human connection- but you believe it's because he has no confidence he is willing to submit himself, while I see his submission as an act of desperation.

Personally, I think to argue that Nico is like this as a result of lack of confidence does a disservice to his narrative (obviously it's fine to view him however you wish, and I wish you all the fun in doing so!). To boil this down to starvation and lack of confidence removes some level of Nico's autonomy in his own life, but also strips him of one of his strongest characteristics- those qualities of him which are like Orpheus.

Nico willing to go to the ends of the earth for love is not a weakness but a strength, his ability to carry on beyond the point in which he needs a rest is not a weakness but a sign of strength. His ability to go to the ends of the earth to right wrongs, and to show his love:

"... Cupid struck, slapping Nico sideways into a granite pedestal. Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work- a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you- especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards."

Cupid is explaining Nico's idea of love in this scene, we see Jason say he prefers Piper's idea of love- but Nico only knows love in the way cupid describes, working desperately for a few moments with Bianca, working just to hear any scrap of information about his mother, always trying to prove himself to Percy- to overcome the way he feels about Percy (and boys in general).

Nico has only known love as something you walk to the ends of the Earth for, but he never stops fighting to be loved and acknowledged. Lesser men would give up and lay down, accept they are unworthy, but Nico keeps pushing to be acknowledged and accepted- to be recognized and loved without having to walk to the end of the Earth, but Nico knows he has to walk to that edge and face it before unconditional love will come to him.

To imply that Nico seeks love the way he does because he's unconfident in his ability to receive love ignores the idea that he's had his life forced into this position because of the fates. It loses acknowledgment to the strength it takes to pick yourself up and walk to the end of the Earth time and time again, because if he was unconfident then he would eventually lay down and accept he shouldn't be loved ever again.

I don't think confidence doesn't play into this at all though, it definitely has some impact on Nico, he does view himself as inherently less (he is overly self sacrificial- think Tartarus :/), and he does try to remove himself from others:

You yourself said: you blame yourself for the way people have hurt you, taken advantage of you, and abandoned you. they exploit your love and your naïveté time and time again. you tell yourself, surely, there must be something wrong with you. because—you are convinced—that people are good. “if they hurt me, it is because i am flawed. it is because i am weak. people will always hurt me—even people i love. it’s an inevitable truth for me.” (X)

And this connects to what I said: "The thing about being rejected is that the first time you argue it's the other person. And the second time you'll argue it's still them. If you're still arguing it's other people the third time, maybe but it's thin ice... But eventually you just have to accept that you're at fault."

I do think there's a reason Nico makes himself so "utilitarian", because he hasn't been handed unconditional love since Bianca. But again we disagree on the why, I see Nico's behavior in his utilitarian example of love as caring, the way more people should be in love. Too many people see love as something given without restraint, and yeah, love should be unconditional but in order for love to be unconditional you have to do the work to lay good foundation. To be utilitarian in loving is not an act of weakness, or a symbol of lack of confidence, it is a showcase of more care in love than most have to offer. We care for things, and place value on them determined by how much love and care goes into those things.

I also don't see Nico's self blaming for what happened as flawed, it's logical in his situation, and a common result of CEN. This self blame shows care and kindness, and this coincides with Nico's arcs, "If I am bad, how do I improve? If I have no choice but to be evil, how do I still be good?". Nico is always fighting not to be recognized for good or bad, but to be recognized for what he is.

Trust is not naivety either, the only reason Nico is regarded as naïve is because of the extreme circumstances of his life. People shouldn't have to expect abuse from people who are supposed to love them, people should have to accept abuse in order to receive love. If Nico's life had turned out different, his naivety wouldn't be viewed as a weakness but a strength- a kindness.

We're not actually viewing Nico all that different, there's this space where his character blurs together, and it becomes an individual duty to determine at what point a flaw becomes a strength, and a strength a flaw. Nico's stubbornness is a flaw if we're thinking about grudges, but it's a strength in his work ethic. Nico's ability to stand on his own is a strength in terms of questing, but it's a flaw when it prevents him from experiencing love in fullness.