#cw abuse of power

[quarterlifekitty]

Uhhhhhhh I’ve been thinking about like turn of the century 1899 American Midwest setting. John Price as the head physician at the sanitarium you’re staying at. And all of the orderlies say that you’re very lucky that he’s taken such special interest in your case. That he’s giving you a specialized treatment plan— personally overseeing your care, even though he’s such a busy man.

He’s really just grooming you into the perfect wife. Making sure you depend on him. Love him for saving you from yourself. And he can just keep pushing back the discharge date until he thinks you’re well… And by well, he means ready for the real thing.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

TW: medical/revenge whump. Abuse of authority/power. Torture. Reprogramming/reconditioning under the guise of “therapy” and “helping.” Abuse, gaslighting, manipulating, mentioned starvation and murder. Dehumanization, drugging, withholding medication.

Whumper(s) want revenge/justice, and at least one believes they’re “helping” and justified.

So I was thinking more about killer and revenge/medical whump. And a dark turn on how he asked Color to “teach him how to be a good person.”

And I was thinking about his Good Ending, and how staying in the Omega Timeline (with Color) requires him getting some actual therapeutic services and support.

Some medical intervention, possibly even needing to get his levels of DT checked or monitored.

Support for any blindness, chronic pain & fatigue, possibly even any dissociative/psychogenic nonepileptic seizures (PNES), he could struggle with. Deconditioning and deprogramming. CBT.

Medication. Any communication and food therapists.

And like this leaves him in a very vulnerable position, and puts strangers he doesn’t know or trust—who do know and have every reason to hate him—in a position of power over him.

So I’d imagine he’d be put in a highly guarded cell. They say it’s for his own protection but no one’s ever really protected him before. He thinks they’re trying to protect the staff and other patients from him.

A part of him is pleased to know that. Another is ashamed.

It changes with a certain member of the staff, however. They have a lot of power and authority in this facility, and they are someone Killer has hurt very, very badly before.

Yet he doesn’t recognize them, or if he does, it’s only as something vague like “an Undyne” or “a Toriel.” He doesn’t remember what exactly he did or said to them, how he wronged them—which only makes this person’s anger worse.

Maybe Killer doesn’t even notice anything up at first until he notices a change in his body’s reaction to medication, certain looks and comments they send his way.

But he doesn’t deny any of this person’s accusations—he fully heartedly believes he’s completely capable of whatever atrocities they said he did. He doesn’t trust himself that much. He doesn’t need much proof.

And I don’t know. Maybe this person was initially just planning to confront it, or kill it, or just torture it.

But maybe they see genuine remorse and guilt in Stage 1, and decide that they will help decondition it.

They see now that it was a tool, a machine, and machine’s can be fixed. Even one taught to do bad things can be good, they just need to show it how. And it wants to be good, it wants this. So they’ll be a better teacher than the one’s who had it before.

And like, maybe Killer’s Stage 1 self fully buys into it eventually. He doesn’t tell anyone what’s happening because he believes he deserves it, and it’s only fair. And that he’ll come away fixed and better again.

If he’s ever allowed into Stage 2 for very long to attempt to escape the pain—which is something the teacher discourages, because good things don’t run away from their crimes and selfishly numb out their guilt—he still doesn’t tell anyone anything. Believing it doesn’t matter.

He’s once again clinging to Color’s visits for any sense of hope, and doesn’t really believe it’s possible for him to live without pain or be free anymore.

So he just tries to enjoy what little he has left, even as They snap at him to stop pretending he is something that can care about anyone or anything. They say he is manipulating Color, trying to trick his “friend” into helping him escape and run back to Nightmare to be evil again. They say that good people are honest.

Eventually Killer just stops seeing Color or responding to any letters. He can’t be around him without wanting to hide in Stage 2, but he cannot do that anymore. It’s bad.

Anytime he acts on previous conditioned behaviors or beliefs, he’s punished for it—such as taking away basic necessities, solitary confinement, restraining him either with a straight jacket or with chains.

If the new teacher is an AU of a Chara, there’s a possibility Stage 4 would just be relieved that They haven’t left it and fall back on its old habits.

Only to get increasingly confused and hurt when They keep treating it harshly —no praise and pleasure when it shows its devotion and loyalty, no reward for fulfilling tasks.

Only pain and pain and pain. It can’t figure out why They aren’t happy with it and why everything it does seems to upset Them. Why They suddenly seem to not want it to exist anymore.

Rather than being convinced to be ‘good,’ Stage 4 will just become more and more convinced that its being bad and attempt to keep doing what always used to make Them happy when They were angry. Like offering dead animals it somehow found, kneeling, somehow handing Them a fork it wasn’t aware it wasn’t supposed to have so They could discipline it.

Offering Them its SOUL.

So between all the Stages; 1 would probably be crying and constantly begging for forgiveness, a lot of panic attacks and moments of falling mute due to overwhelming fear and stress and guilt (selective mutism.) He’ll be punished for for behaving childish and being disruptive.

Stage 3 is completely nonverbal, and likely always snapping and snarling and tugging against the chains or jacket. Trying to attack and run.

Like quietly curling up in a corner whenever finally left alone, uncontrollable twitching and harsh stimming behavior; such as smacking his skull against the wall repeatedly. Unlikely to whimper regardless of how much he wants to. Curl up in such a way to protect his stomach and SOUL, and unlikely to sleep.

He’s punished for not speaking, for behaving like an animal, punished if he doesn’t use his words. For hoarding food and eating with his hands too fast. For biting and scratching, and for twitching/hurting himself “for attention.” For being ungrateful and not sleeping.

The more Stage 4’s desperation for Their approval increases the more and more Killer becomes unstable. It’s punished for punishing itself after every failure, every expression of emotion.

It’s punished for becoming so desperate for things to make sense that it starts basically becoming even more Determined to prove its loyalty the only way it knows how—by trying to kill, kill, kill.

Stage 4’s entire world will be flipped on its head simply because it will not think to do the things that this Chara deems “good.” Because it was taught differently, that killing is good, that’s its purpose, it must. It does not know the concept of mercy or kindness and would never think to offer any to “lines of codes.”

It will try to adapt, because it wants to please Them, but They refer to it as if it is a person. They get mad at it when it does not react to death or pain. They call it words when it brings Them offerings.

If They constantly give it punishment after punishment it and it doesn’t understand why, and no rewards or being rewarded for doing the ‘bad’ things it’ll only feel like a test.

It won’t understand why not killing is being rewarded—it should not be, it has been bad. It has been ungrateful and disobedient.

It won’t accept food as rewards because that is not what it’s supposed to do. It accepts food only at certain times every week.

It won’t make choices, express autonomy, or display any moral judgment—it will not accept positive reinforcement for disobedient behavior such as trying to be led to believe it is a person or capable of making any choice. It will resist any attempts to be humanized.

If the new teacher is an AU of Chara, it will rapidly oscillate between instinctive, reverent obedience and resistance—falling more and more into confusion and cognitive dissonance. A rising sense of betrayal because They never did this before and Where is the real Them? and have They abandoned it?

Stage 4 will likely suffer a lot of breakdowns and shutdowns trying to be taught how to be a “good person,” because it fundamentally does not view itself as a person.

But if the new teacher is not an AU of a Chara or doesn’t have “Their heart,” (the locket), Stage 4 is likely to be extremely dismissive of them. “This one is not a person. Do not pretend as if it is.” or “They have no use for your kind of goodness.”

Likely to either straight up ignore or dismiss any attempts to change it, dismissing the words as a part of this particular code’s script. Mock any attempts to convince it to participate.

Will likely not accept any form of punishment from anyone who isn’t Them or allowed by Them, fighting back against punishment and not accepting reward. More likely to plan a way to kill this particular code to reaffirm its devotion to Them.

Meanwhile Stage 2 would be apathetic, playing along when it benefits him; pretending he’s “learning.”

He’d passively take any punishment or reward without any genuine care, regardless of how he pretends or any sarcastic comments. This is very likely the Stage planning the escape/revenge, if he cares at all.

(The way to get him to comply is likely to get him to doubt his memory and experiences.

Convince him that everything that happened with Nightmare and after Nightmare never really happened, was all just a dream or—if the new teacher is an AU of Chara���that there’s been another Reset.

And instead he’s still in his timeline, and either Chara is teaching him something new or he got help from the rest of the Underground after killing them. Reinforces the message that he “wants this.”)

If the new teacher is an au of Chara, Stage 4 would be too far caught up in Their presence and just wouldn’t want to leave—would never think of it. If the teacher isn’t an AU of Chara, it’d just be thinking of ways to slaughter them and escape to return to Them.

Stage 1 would believe he deserves it, and the teacher is only teaching him how to be better. Whereas Stage 3 lives in the moment, resisting any attempts to be changed for any reason whatsoever and fighting back with every punishment.

Killer will likely have to be heavily sedated just to be able to properly “work with” him without hurting himself or anyone else—likely often either dehumanized or infantilized heavily. He will attempt to regain some margin of control, even if it’s as simple as biting the hands that literally feed him or spitting in their faces.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Older Brothers

Author’s Note:This is the next fic in Cedric’s Adventures. First. Previous. I have borrowed Brother Roland and Brother Arnault from @kit-williams with permission and Brother Petras from @gal with permission. Thank you!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Warnings: abuse of power, flashback, minor character death, canon-typical violence

Summary: Cedric is introduced to a couple of firstborn black templars by Captain Ash’val. 

Cedric silently follows after Captain Ash’val, his mouth dry and concern clawing it’s way through the depths of his hearts. If… Or more accurately, when it’s found out that he helped four teenage baselines out of the base, rather than bringing them to holding or to one of his older Cousins or Imperial Fist Brothers, he had no doubt that he’s going to be in more trouble. But the young apothecary truly felt that he’d done the best he could in a rather fraught situation. Even if Cedric had merely taken the four teenagers to holding, the fact that they were there would have caught Captain Petras’ attention, and…

The Black Templar Chaplain had a firm and heavy hand when it came to punishment, and while Cedric would like to say that he didn’t think that the older Black Templar would permanently harm baseline humans who had been born and lived on Holy Terra… Especially the young and adventurously foolish - 

Cedric was half-way through checking the inventory of the tertiary infirmary aboard the Sigismund when his vox was pinged. One of his fellow Primaris brothers was in critical condition and needed immediate medical aid, or it was likely that he was going to die. Considering the fact that the Sigismund was weeks from the last engagement and they had taken minimal casualties, the ping had startled the young Apothecary.

Dutifully he set down the medication he’d been counting, grabbing an emergency kit and sprinted out of the medication room, hearing the medication room door close automatically behind him. 

It took him five long, agonizing minutes to reach the location of his critically injured Brother, who continued to get worse and further injured by something. He’d also made sure to grab his bolter - they were flying through the warp and if the Gellar Field had weakened where the Brother was and had allowed a daemon or other sort of warp-predator onto the ship, they were potentially in much greater trouble.

Cedric skidded to a halt, staring in confusion at the entrance to the cathedral room, which was where his dying brother was. It was one of the most holy and sanctified parts of the entire ship, how could an agent of Chaos bear to stand in a place so entirely lit by His Holy Light? The young apothecary mentally shook himself and charged into the room to see-

Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras standing over the prone body of Alois, one of Cedric’s fellow Primaris marines, sneering down at the young marine, who had been stripped of both armor and clothing, and knelt before the older marine, head bowed low and arms crossed behind his back. Petras was wielding an electro-whip in one hand, the other was wielding a charged powerfist. The chaplain’s voice was full of disdain and wrathful fire as he thundered loudly “YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR MANY SINS, AND BE MADE TO BLEED AND CRAWL IN PENANCE!”

Alois was barely breathing, and was weeping silently but freely, shi shoulders trembling. He didn’t so much as flinch as Petras whipped him across the face, carving another bloody stripe from the younger marine’s body. 

The primaris Marine did go flying over the pathway between the metal pews, sailing towards where Cedric stood transfixed as Petras punched Alois square in the chest with his charged powerfist, a low wheeze of pain leaving Alois as the blow struck, and when he landed with a heavy, meaty thud on the metal plating of the deck.

The sound shook Cedric out of his shock-stillness as he rushed over to his brother’s side, his vitals worsening further. “H-Honorable B-Brother Chaplain Captain, this M-marine’s vital signs are d-dangerously close to death. M-May I suggest that you s-stay your h-hand of punishment until he is recovered enough to c-continue to endure the… The punishment without r-risk of dying?” Cedric asked, as his hands flew over his brother’s body, checking where Alois was most critically injured as he started to administer the life-saving medications and treatments that the other primaris would need in order to survive the brutal beating he’d endured.

“And what if I tell you that I have decided that he is Unfit to continue to serve as an Astartes, little Apothecary? What if I told you that I have decided that he should be culled for his weaknesses, for his sins?” Petras sneered, stalking down the walkway towards both primaris marines. 

Cedric didn’t dare take his eyes off of his patient, knowing that Captain Petras in particular saw direct eye-contact from an aspirant or a squire as a punishable offense unless he ordered them to look at him directly. “Th-there is a p-proper procedure for that, H-Honorable Chaplain Captain, that a-allows the Apothecarion to harvest certain useful critical organs from the to-be-culled marine so that those organs may be properly r-recycled sir.” He hated the fact that his voice was trembling, but was glad that his hands were stone-steady as he continued to tend to his barely conscious and badly injured Brother. 

Cedric mentally shook himself as he desperately tried to ground himself in the here and now. He knew of over a dozen Primaris Brothers who had been killed by the infamous temper of Chaplain Captain Petras and that was before he’d… Before he’d killed his own apprentice, Ramiel and had openly declared that he found all Primaris Marines to be heretical abominations unworthy of existence. He had reported the deaths of those primaris marines and who they had been kill-culled by to his mentor, who had responded by restricting Cedric’s movements on the Sigismund alone more and more until the near-schism had almost torn the Black Templar chapter apart. 

Cedric had never been able to save any of them, their injuries too severe and Petras’ orders absolute. The fact that Ramiel had actually been sent to Ancient Terra half-dead instead of actually dying was… Surely that had been an intervention by the God Emperor, as Cedric had been within hailing range and had been able to actually save Ramiel with proper supplies and firstborn brothers uninterested in seeing a Primaris brother slowly bleed out to death at their boots. 

Part of him silently hoped that he would be able to find more of his thought-dead primaris brothers having also been spared by Him on Terra and be able to patch them u properly, allow them to heal and prove themselves as worthy Astartes. 

Shit, Captain Ash’val was talking! Better pay attention. Cedric mentally reviewed what his ears had been hearing while his mind wallowed in past agonies. 

“We’ve been able to find a couple of older Black Templars who have expressed a desire to meet with you. Both of them also have bonds, and have been on Ancient Terra for at least a couple of years, if not longer.” Ash’val explained, a small smile appearing on the Salamander’s face. “You’ll be meeting them in the base, in one of the public rooms. They should be here relatively soon.”

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded with an obedient nod, making sure to stand in a spot that wouldn’t impede the foot traffic in the room. He briefly checked to make sure that the civvie clothes he was wearing was clean and in good condition. He felt woefully underdressed for meeting any of his older brothers, with no armor and not even a simple weapon on his belt… But he hoped that they would forgive him for that, as it wasn’t as if he’d wanted to be taken to Ancient Terra in his night clothes. 

The young apothecary immediately spotted the older Templar as he walked into the room, armor shining in the artificial light of the room. He was holding something in one of his hands, although what it might be, Cedric could only guess. The style of the other’s armor put his home timeline likely in the mid M-40s. Well before the rollout of the Primaris Marines. He nearly startled when the older Brother approached and spoke, offering him the sourdough loaf. “Thank you sir.” He murmured. It was slightly warm to the touch and it smelled delicious. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with the sourdough loaf, and would either be told or ask Pyrus later. 

Cedric’s eyes went huge as one of the Emperor’s Champions walked over to the two of them. He could barely breathe, awed and incredibly intimidated as the well-known and revered Champion Arnault Wach walked over and actually talked! To him and Brother Roland! Cedric felt his ears go warm at the light call out of him being embarrassingly unarmed unarmored and managed not to squeak as he murmured a meek “Yes sir.”

The young apothecary briefly lost the thread of the conversation - especially when the two older brothers switched to one of the local languages - one he was unfamiliar with. But Cedric was well aware of the Rule among Black Templars that younger brothers were not to speak unless spoken to, and stayed quiet, still holding the loaf of sourdough uncertainly in his hands. 

The Emperor’s Champion looked at Cedric directly again, which froze the air in all three of Cedric’s lungs. It took him a moment to process what Arnault asked of him. 

His… Favorite food? “N…Nutrient paste?” The young apothecary offered, deeply confused. Ration bars were drier and tended to be chalky. Nutrient paste could be heated up and had a couple of different flavors to them. Not that he had a definite preference. 

Then Brother Roland asked “Have you been allowed out?” clearly referring to the base.

Cedric shuffled his feet a little. He refused to apologize for attacking the Slaaneshi bastard and didn’t think either of them would punish him for following his training… But with him on-base, anything was possible “No sir… I attacked a patient.” 

He would be happy to explain the full details of what happened, but a look of understanding passed between the Emperor’s Champion and the Battle Brother as they said together “Right, unbonded.” 

Was there really such a difference between bonded and unbonded Black Templars? Just what all was involved with these bonds? Cedric had tried to ask before, but the explanations he got were confusing and didn’t make much sense… They also boiled down to you’ll understand when you get a Bond yourself. 

“Well, little battle brother, you’ve got Brother Roland and myself, Brother Arnault in the area to keep you company.” The Emperor’s Champion declared, a smile on the older brother’s face “Now let’s enjoy the brot that Bruder Roland brought.” He ordered, silently gesturing for Cedric to follow him.

Cedric nodded and followed after the two firstborn Black Templars, staying a respectful two and a half steps behind the others as he had been taught, surprised and honored beyond words when Brother Roland and Brother Arnault invited him to walk alongside them, as if they were equals. “I… I haven’t had sourdough bread before, sir.” The young apothecary admitted shyly, holding the item in his hands “How do we enjoy it? It smells delicious.”

“Have… Have you never had brot before? How long have you been on Ancient Terra?” Brother Roland asked, blinking a little in surprise. 

“About six months or so? The Older Brothers and Cousins have been keeping me busy in the base. Occasionally they supplement my meals with local fruits and vegetables, which has been a fascinating experience so far, sirs!” Cedric answered earnestly, careful not to look either of them directly in the eye. He didn’t want to seem as if he was challenging either one of them.

“What have you tried? What have you enjoyed most? Brot can be enjoyed a number of ways, but here, hand the brot over and I’ll tear off chunks for each of us to eat.” Roland instructed Cedric, who immediately complied.

The bread had a more intense scent when it was torn open, and Cedric took a cautious bite. The savory-tangy flavors were almost overwhelming to his senses, but in a very good way. He found that he devoured the piece of sourdough within seconds “This is really tasty, sir! Thank you for bringing it. I very much liked the pink apples and the little green tree-vegetables. They have a subtle earthy taste and take all kinds of spices really well.” 

Both Arnault and Roland smiled in response to Cedric’s enthusiasm, as the two lead him on a tour of the city, pointing out places that they liked to visit, as well as chatting about the different kinds of food that they liked - and disliked. Cedric listened closely to their words, doing his best to retain everything they told him, honored and delighted to spend time with two of his firstborn brother templars. The Imperial Fists, Ultramarines and Salamanders were almost distressingly kind, but it really wasn’t the same. 

[what-have-i-unleashed]

the debriefing

something short and (not) sweet. direct sequel to this.

wrote this quickly because i need to exorcise this out of my brain first. mermaid-coded dust do be suffering >:3

(cw: unhealthy/toxic relationship, abuse of power, possessiveness, forced alcohol consumption, vomiting)

"dust, stay behind. all of you, get to your rooms."

dust stays still in his spot, as cross and horror pause in their steps and give him a quick look. only the newbie (the impostor) leaves the room quickly with a bounce to his steps. dust decides he hates it.

when the study is vacant except for him and nightmare, dust is swiftly dragged and positioned in a guest chair facing nightmare's extravagant desk. he sits, his gaze looking down on the decorative floor mats and his mind absentmindedly counting the circles he can see. he only half-listened when nightmare opens the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of something and pours it into the two wine glasses on his desk. one glass is deposited in his lap by one of nightmare's tentacles.

"drink," nightmare says, his voice velvety. dust knows better - it is a command. and yet, he doesn't lift the glass. he stares at the shimmering red liquid surface, unblinking.

a tentacle grabs his face roughly and forces him to look into the immortal's turquoise eyelight. nightmare's face sports a disdainful sneer, as if dust is nothing but a nuisance to him, which is probably not far from the truth, dust thinks.

"i say, drink," nightmare says, his tone sterner than before. not waiting for dust to respond, nightmare grabs dust's glass and forces it to his mouth. not wanting to prolong whatever this is, dust complies and drinks. the wine is strong, but not the strongest he's ever tasted. the liquid burns as it goes down his throat, leaving him even more parched.

the anger in nightmare's face swiftly melts into a look of malicious joy. he pets dust's hood with his hand, cooing, "that's it. it's good to celebrate once in a while, don't you think?"

he leaves the half-empty glass in dust's lap again and sips his own glass, humming happily. it is a bit eerie to see nightmare happy, but dust can't be bothered to care. he only sits, waiting for nightmare to speak again.

"how do like the new addition, dust?"

dust tenses, then admonishes himself for doing so. nightmare must have noticed, because dust can hear a chuckle.

"sensitive topic, hm?" nightmare places his glass on his desk, then wanders in front of dust, standing towering over him. "that's why we're having this conversation." a tentacle snakes up dust's bandaged zygomatic bone, just slightly pressing on it. "so, how do you like him, dust?"

he's loud, dust answers after a while, not daring to break the eye contact with nightmare.

"that he is," nightmare hums. "more outspoken than the one we had, isn't he?"

another tentacle hovers over dust's chest, an unspoken request. dust obeys, manifesting his soul for nightmare to handle. a wave of apathy washes over him as nightmare continues, "he's still new to the multiverse, still malleable. you can teach him, just like you were taught by our old mutual friend."

nightmare speaks of the word with much derision as he lightly squeezes dust's soul. the skeleton monster flinches, unable to mask his reaction to such an act to his being.

"how long have you been with me, dust? with him gone, you're my oldest servant now. and you're quiet, much more manageable than the traitor, i say." another squeeze. "and my best servant deserves the best, doesn't he?"

as long as i obey you that is, dust thinks, but doesn't say out loud. he shivers as nightmare releases his soul and pushes it back into his body.

"he's my gift to you. break him, fuck him, kill him - whatever, i don't care," nightmare's face breaks into a smile. he leans into dust's face, his eyelight wild and his tentacles erratic. "although, think of him as our second chance. this time, we'll make things right. won't we, dust?"

as abruptly as he invaded dust's space, nightmare retreats back besides his desk, holding his glass of wine again. dust releases a breath he doesn't know he's been holding, taking another sip of his own glass. he feels warm and fuzzy.

"you can go now," nightmare dismisses him. "think about what i say, will you? and oh," nightmare smiles behind his glass, as he notices dust paying attention to him again. "he likes red."

when dust leaves nightmare's study, he walks quickly back to his room, his body on auto-pilot.

dust is somewhat surprised when he sees cross standing in front of his room, leaning against the wall. the monochrome skeleton perks up at his sight.

"hey, about the date, i-"

dust passes by him, not caring what he has to say. he crashes into his bathroom in his room and pushes his fingers into his mouth, forcing himself to cough up whatever concoction nightmare had him drink. he could see the little golden flecks flushing down the drain.

pathetic, his brother says. and dust can't help but agree. what are you going to do?

dust stares at the broken mirror looking back at him, unable to produce an answer.

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 23: I Will Get You Out

~1820 words

CW: offscreen suicide attempt by main character (SEE THIS NOTE for spoilery context if you need it!), forced institutionalization, abuse of power, conservatorship

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

[Record transcript start]

DR MANDAL: [Sic] introduced ourselves, there are some questions I’m required to ask by the VIU.

M BECK: Okay.

DR MANDAL: What prompted you to voluntarily seek out the cure?

[0:46]

DR MANDAL: Is this a difficult question for you?

M BECK: Yeah.

DR MANDAL: In what way?

M BECK: Um.

[0:32]

DR MANDAL: Have you ever done talk therapy before?

M BECK: Yeah, there was a, a victim that we lost before EMTs could arrive. It was bad. I went to a couple counseling sessions after that.

DR MANDAL: This was during your job as a VIU field agent?

M BECK: Yes.

DR MANDAL: Was the counseling helpful?

M BECK: I think so.

DR MANDAL: How was it helpful?

M BECK: She told me a bunch of stuff to do. Like breathing exercises and stuff. I didn’t have to talk much.

DR MANDAL: I see. When you try to answer my question, what trouble are you running into?

M BECK: There’s just so much. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to explain it all.

DR MANDAL: Would you like to try letting go of the need to be organized?

M BECK: What would that mean?

DR MANDAL: Say what you’re thinking, without worrying whether it will make sense to me.

M BECK: Okay. What was the question again?

DR MANDAL: What prompted you to voluntarily seek out the cure?

M BECK: Simon. He told me to. He made me scared that I would kill him.

DR MANDAL: Scared?

M BECK: I know, right? Vampires aren’t supposed to get scared, ever. But I don’t know what else to call it.

DR MANDAL: I’ve observed something with my other patients, and this might not ring true for you, but let’s see what you think. Often people conceptualize vampires as having no emotion, but the reality seems to be that they instead have a different emotional spectrum. You, as a human now, are trying to put labels from your emotional spectrum onto the experiences you had as a vampire, because they are the only labels you have. What do you think?

M BECK: That, that makes sense. Yeah. Because I definitely felt things. Did your other patients feel things?

DR MANDAL: Yes.

M BECK: Okay. Yeah, that’s. I thought I might be different, for a while, that there was something wrong with me.

DR MANDAL: When did you think that?

M BECK: When I was a vampire. Just every once in a while. I would feel something close to guilt, but not guilt, sometimes, when Simon was hurting. And it felt weird.

DR MANDAL: Can you tell me more about the feelings you had about Simon when you were a vampire?

M BECK: Oh. I don’t know. I don’t know.

~~~

Matthew never got his phone call.

Fontaine Fields was decorated for Easter when he got out.

The winter clothes that he’d worn into the clinic hung a little baggy on him; he’d lost a lot of muscle mass after four months of limited access to Fontaine’s under-equipped gym. He clutched his heavy winter coat in his arms as Bev led him through the building. His heart thrummed with anxiety. Two weeks ago, when he received his release date, he’d given the office a list of people to notify. They should know. Someone should be waiting for him. Someone would be there.

If not, there was always the bus.

He and Dr Mandal had talked about this - how he was expecting everyone to hate him, for what he’d done.  He was expecting to be shunned by all his former loved ones, and that just wasn’t realistic. People cared about him. They did.

He at least hoped his dad was there.

Bev opened the front doors for him and the painfully bright sunlight forced him to shut his eyes. He took a tentative step out, feeling the stone step with his feet.

“I’ll wait right here until you get into a car or the bus, alright?” came Bev’s deep comforting tones next to him.

“A car? There’s a car?”

“Yup. People too.”

Matthew pried his eyes open and blinked frantically. He made out three figures standing at the edge of the gravel parking lot, next to two cars.

“Matthew!” A familiar shout, from a voice with years of experience calling that name.

“DAD!” Matthew nearly fell down the steps as Scott Beck, bad knee and all, raced over and caught him up in the tightest hug he’d felt in months. Matthew clutched him, weeping openly, his coat dropped and forgotten on the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you now,” Scot soothed him.

“I’m so sorry, dad, I’m so sorry!” Matthew cried.

Scott stroked his son’s hair and murmured gentle words to him. They stayed like that for a good long while as Matthew cried it out. When he was finally convinced this was real and not some wonderful dream he was having back in his tiny room, Matthew took a step back, still holding his dad by the shoulders.

“Dad, I want to explain -”

“Gina told me everything.” Scott pressed a hand to Matthew’s chest. “You were trying to save someone’s life. I know it didn’t work out the way you wanted, but I’m proud of you for trying so hard.”

Matthew sobbed and just looked at his dad, flooded with relief. Scott was tall, and had been of a similar build to Matthew once upon a time, but age had moved much of his mass from his muscles to his gut. He had a few new gray hairs on his thinning head since the last time Matthew saw him, and some new worry lines as well. But he looked back at Matthew with nothing but love and relief at seeing his son safe and healthy.

“C’mon.” He picked up Matthew’s coat in one hand and wrapped the other arm around Matthew’s shoulders. “Let’s go say hi to her and your other friend.”

As they walked over Matthew refocused on the other two people standing by the cars, wiping a sleeve across his face. One was Gina, naturally, but the other was Devon Barre, which struck Matthew as a little odd. He’d never been close with Devon. He had casual friends outside of work that he would think were more likely to show up to his release than Devon, and he hadn’t even notified them.

Simon wasn't there, of course. Matthew could understand that.

“Hey, man.” Gina gave him a quick smile and hug, but something was wrong. Sure, Gina was a reserved person, but not this reserved. Not with Matthew.

“Matthew.” Devon shook his hand. “Glad to have you back.”

Matthew knew asking Why are you here? would be rude, so he turned his attention to Gina’s lackluster greeting.

“Everything okay?”

“No,” was her immediate response, her eyes dark and serious, “I really hate to do this right as you get out, but… Can we talk to you about Simon?”

“What about him?” Matthew kept his expression schooled, even as he felt a spike of dread pierce his gut.

“He’s stuck, at Summerwhite. Isles won’t let him leave.”

“Isles? How-?”

“It’s a long story. After you took Simon, we started tracking you. We were trying to figure out how to get Simon away from you and keep him away. We put a plant at Simon’s job, to try and befriend him, but it just spooked him, and proved to us that he wouldn’t leave you willingly.”

Matthew remembered the man at Simon’s job that he would always complain about. The nosey guy. The chivalrous guy. Matthew had been planning on killing him if he didn’t stop bothering Simon. He shivered.

“What did Isles do?”

Gina took a breath, her face bitter.

“He didn’t believe a 72 hour psych hold would be enough to decondition Simon. So he compiled all the evidence we’d collected and filed to have Simon declared incompetent and placed in a conservatorship. Under his custody.”

“... Incompetent?” Matthew breathed.

“He claimed Simon was suicidal, that he’d talked to Simon before he left with you and he said he wanted you to kill him.”

“No,” Matthew shook his head emphatically, “Simon wasn’t suicidal, or incompetent.”

“I didn’t think so either. I argued against the idea.” Her mouth twisted. “He fired me and did it anyway.” She glanced at Devon. “I thought I could rely on Amber to keep me posted, but… Devon was the one who actually stepped up.”

“Our plan at that point was extraction,” Devon picked up the story, “But then the cure came out, and you two walked right into a clinic. Amber and I thought that was it, that Isles would release the conservatorship, but on the way to the airport we were talking and he said he wouldn’t. He wanted to make sure Simon stayed away from you, that’s what he said. I challenged him on it, and he fired me too. Amber’s the only one he has left.”

“So Simon can’t…” Gears were spinning wildly in Matthew’s head, desperate to keep up.

“Simon can’t do anything,” Gina snapped, “He can’t make his own medical decisions, he can’t pick who gets to visit him, he can’t check himself out of Summerwhite even if the doctors clear him. All his decisions get made by Isles.”

“What do we do?” Matthew demanded.

“We have a plan,” Devon said slowly, “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Isles got him into this, and we think Isles is the only one who can get him back out.”

“Why would he change his mind?”

“Because Simon tried to…” Gina hesitated, watching Matthew carefully, “Take his own life. A couple weeks ago.”

The sun was too hot. The parking lot felt like it was spinning.

Your fault. Your fault.

Matthew felt his dad grab his hand and shoulder again.

“Easy there, Matty. Take a deep breath.”

Matthew forced air in and out of his lungs.

“What happened?” he rasped.

“We don’t know,” Gina said, “I only found out because Isles actually called me for advice. The fucking nerve! But he’s scared now, scared that he made the wrong decision. I think he might help us get Simon back, with a little convincing.”

“But is Simon okay?” Matthew didn’t care about Isles at the moment.

“We don’t know,” Gina repeated, “Isles won’t tell us, or let us visit him. So we just don’t know.”

All this information left Matthew reeling. Simon had been alone, with no one but Isles to visit him, for four months. Locked up, imprisoned, for four months - and not even allowed the hope of leaving. Matthew had barely been able to handle the same situation, and he had known he would be released eventually. How could Simon cope with that?

Matthew knew the answer already. Simon hadn’t coped.

“Where is Isles?”

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[maeattemptsateverything]

Arrest

Émile was running, leaving others teachers in awe and a mess of still ungraded essays in his wake. The headmistress would yell at him later but it didn't matter; he would never have left his job if whatever was happening wasn't important. He ran as fast as he could when he saw the troop’s movement.

The only thing in his mind was the Angel.

He still was too slow, when he saw that the heavy forces had already broken down his front door. The neighbors were already peeping through their windows; surely one of them called. His front yard was a mess, nobody minded to have kicked mud and pebbles into his living room.

The bathroom had the cabinets wide open, his medication on the floor while both the kitchen and his bedroom were being ransacked by armed soldiers. Émile was trying and failing to rescue his mother's delicate china and the clothes his sister chose for him.

The soldiers didn't seem to be getting anywhere near the bookshelf; a hidden entrance his father built long ago. A great relief but a useless one. His breathing was almost erratic and that was not helping his case.

"Could you be the owner of this house?" Asked a blond man standing in the middle of the living room, the Captain, with a smirk on his face but a bored look in his eyes.

“What is this? Are you a policeman?” Asked Émile, the same tone when some student causes mayhem on the back seats.

“I do the questions here, mister” The Captain keept a nonchalant attitude but was clearly tired, not wanting to spend more than necessary with yet another civilian.

“You need a permit to enter a person's house; otherwise it is a crime of trespass” the man let out a surprised chuckle, but quickly fell back to composure.

“Aren't you a funny one? But I suggest you mind your tone”

A small noise came from the basement; the boxes falling. His angel friend tends to knock off things with their antlers, especially if they can't calculate the space when they move. If someone checks the bookshelf…

"What do you want?" Émile feigned annoyance, shielding his rising anxiety with anger.

"Nothing much, just want to check around"

"Well you already did! And destroyed my stuff in the process. So. Get. Out!”

“Sorry mister, but I'm the authority here. Most neighbors had reported suspicious activities coming from your domicile” The living room started to fill with soldiers, at least twenty. Émile tried his best to hide his dread "So if you can be so kind to tell us if you are a thief or a drug manufacturer...”

“That’s bullshit you are talking about! I'm literally a middle school teacher, I couldn't be dangerous if I wanted to!”

“Do you also use that language in front of your students?” Laughed one of the soldiers, the rest followed like hyenas.

“I´m sorry, you seem like such a weak opponent that it's usually one of those two options.” he was not going to lose his temper to people that were a head taller than him.

Émile bit his lower lip, trying to not get paralyzed “You already checked and found nothing”

“Why does your bookshelf have hinges?” he froze in his place, watching how the soldiers inspected the hidden entrance.

And finally went down the basement.

“Wait! You can't go down there!” He tried to reason with the captain, grabbing his armor to slow down his pace.

Only for the captain to slam his head against the ceramic floor. Émile was so astounded by the sharp pain in his temple he almost didn't register the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

“‐nestly”

“W- at?” The captain's voice was deafening, but almost drowned by the high pitch whistle at the same time. He was breathless.

“Answer honestly now” the Captain looked bigger, even if he could only see him over his shoulder by the tail of his eye. The other thing he saw was his left elbow held over the captain's knee. One wrong move and it was going to be bent backwards.

“that may save you from future problems”

“"I ca- I can't” I can't breath

“You are talking, you are fine”

The whole weight of the captain was over him, feeling his own ribs threatening to break and puncture his lungs. He was not fine, he was feeling lightheaded and needed to run away. The noise coming from the basement was growing louder in his ears, screams; his eyes burned and itched, and could not make out the blurred figures that hurried back.

Émile's eyes were frozen on the single soldier that cried while climbing up the stairs. She was all confident when her troop invaded his home, not expecting to find a treath. But she collapsed right in front of him. Her helmet was torn to shreds, the sight of her milky white skull against the bloodied tissue of her eye. Multiple slashes and holes ran through her face; wounds that were fast, angry, desperate.

Scared.

“What. are. you. hiding?”

The commanding yet terrified tone of the Captain above him was a stark contrast.

The house was suddenly silent, the soldiers no longer approaching the basement. Instead they formed a defense around their captain, weapons pointed steadily and fully charged. Émile could only see its boots. Émile already knew what was coming when the creature emerged from the dark. The captain stood at the sight of the antlers and drew out a rifle, pointing at the open mouth.

These creatures are naturally meek, Émile knew this. So the sight was enough to make him crawl away to a corner and hide, instead he was frozen in place when faced with the Angel. Its pose was akin to a claim of surrender; hiding its wings making itself seem smaller, eyes wide open. It was scared, repent; He knew it was not going to attack again.

Maybe the only reason the soldiers were able to empty their cartridges.

An ear-shattering yell reverberated through the room. The Angel was taken down, crawling towards him with a body pierced entirely. It cried in pain still, sounding primal and anguished. Émile was always successful in calming it down, soft touches in its hair while humming calm reassurances.

Now Émile could only watch his friend suffer while himself was paralyzed; not even able to move his face.

“Don't let that thing move an inch! Cut the feathers, tie its hands, I don't care! Just wait for reinforcement and call the director! Don´t kill it yet!” the Captain was shouting, the only sound anchoring him to reality.

“And this one-” he was at the verge of panic; the Captain last order only tipped his balance.

“Throw this bastard in the truck”

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

Can you hide a feral creature that is at war with humanity in your basement and expect no consequences?

[anetherealpoetess]

Neil Gaiman, let’s be realistic. A 21-year-old working in the home of a man four decades her senior cannot truly give meaningful consent to any type of sexual encounter, let alone within mere hours of meeting him. Even though you are denying it was not consensual, the fact you have conceded the sexual encounter did happen at all is a full confession. You are, by your own admission, a predator.

[briar--rising]

It is so funny to me when people try to argue about who's 'worse', Lestat or Armand. First of all, worse by what metric? By the way they treat humans? The way they treat Claudia? Or (as it seems most people are focused on) only the way they treat Louis? And if it's by the way they treat Louis, are you judging based on what you would find worse in a partner, or by what Louis does (bc I would argue he pretty clearly has an opinion on that based on the end of season 2).

And most importantly of all, who cares??? They are both TERRIBLE. Everyone in this show is terrible! You can like morally reprehensible characters. Armand is my personal blorbo, and what he does is horrific. I can feel bad for him, and enjoy watching him, and think that his actions are heinous, and reblog art and read fanfiction of him, and analyze him without excusing him, all at the same time! And so can you with whoever you like!

Pitting these characters against one another is absurd. "Which one is less abusive" is a question I guess you can ask, but it's not a very interesting one. Much more interesting is "Why are they abusive in these specific ways? What about their trauma and personality informs their actions? Why does Louis react the way he does to each of them? What does that say about Louis? What does this show say about domestic violence in general? Are the rules different for vampires? Or is abuse abuse? Do the victims determine who should get forgiveness? Or are certain actions inherently unforgivable? Can you forgive someone when their victim hasn't? Is any of this different in fiction rather than reality? etc etc etc." There are so many interesting questions posed by the juxtaposition between Lestat and Armand and the way they treat Louis, and none of them are "but which one is worse so I can forever villify that one and hold up the other one as the paragon of what's good and right and perfect for Louis"

[malkaleh]

His little nightingale - still young by Saurons count - he may have grown but he is perhaps somehow more beautiful now - with an ageless and yet ancient air that is not elven. Stars still shine softly in a mass of black hair.

He had kept it long. Sauron vows he will have the eyes of any who had looked upon it - though of course, of course he would keep Celebrian. If it had been any other he would have ground their fea into dust (he should have done so with that accursed Celeborn, had he but known).

But she is all her mothers daughter - all steel and fierce fierce light to her husbands gentle kindness - Sauron thinks he might almost be able to bear watching them together. Almost.

(He will kill the elf who dares to touch Tyelpe though. Or at least he will make him beg for death - for keeping his smith away, for all the wounds that Sauron was forced to mark him with he will make him beg for death)

His little nightingale has three children - and it is his daughter who echoes him, echoes Melian. It makes him think of the plans he had had - what children his three would have made with him - how he would have made it so. They would have carried so beautifully. The sons, ah they are far more their grandmother - dark bright vengeance that he might aim where he willed.

He will have his three.

@nocompromise-noregrets @self-destructinganimal

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Tik tok link

ITS LITERALLY THAT AND I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

UTMV fandom stop romanticizing trafficking, kidnapping, what amounts to basically mind control, and abuse just because it’s your “hot” little blorbo that does it challenge. Failed continuously over and over.

I think the worst part about it is when they use killers masochism to justify the abuse with “well he likes it!”

Pretty soon I predict some people in the fandom may tip to the other side of the scale and make killer start hating nightmare so much and sexualize that too.

Just let bro do one simple thing and breathe without constantly sexualizing him. like would you like it if you start sharing how much you hate your abuser and have violent thoughts about revenge only for someone to claim you want to fuck and have sexual tension with your abuser.

[abyssal-ilk]

adding onto this post here where i talked about a cadash inquisitor being uncomfortable with bastien's relationship with vivienne due to the exploitation of castless women by noblemen in orzammar, i also cannot help but think about how fiona must feel about vivienne and bastien. she is older than vivienne, and from an extremely young age she has known the absolute worst of orlesian society through the hands of a nobleman who physically and sexually abused her– something that took her time to fully rationalize as wrong. i wonder if she saw herself in vivienne when she and bastien first started courting, or if she thought vivienne is in the "unknowing" phase of what fiona went through herself.

it is not the exact same situation. obviously. fiona was a young elven girl who was a slave in everything but official name and vivienne was an adult, if only recently so, and is willing in her relationship with bastien. but i wonder what she thinks when she sees vivienne, maybe twenty, maybe not even that yet, catching the eye of bastien during the wintersend ball– a man old enough to be her father from one of if not THE most powerful family in orlais. the man sitting at the head of the council of heralds, the highest position in the orlesian court. is she angry? worried? both? does it matter, if she cannot do anything to interfere in any way without risking massive repercussions? idk. many thoughts.

[katabay]

SURGICAL SELF EXORCISM

so I was reading a text (as I usually am) on don quixote (thanks to re4make) and came across this one, and immediately started connecting thematic dots like there's no tomorrow

the wound fingering is because it's fun and sexy, and the adjacent catholicism of both settings makes this kind of imagery free real-estate to go wild with

[dumplingprincessextraordinaire]

I know y’all hate Valentino but wow he’s funny, charismatic and kinda charming. I’m putting that down to the way he’s very fluid in his animation and body language as well his voice acting, it’s a good performance and voice all in all. (And I think it makes sense to acknowledge that he’s kinda charming because a lot of abusers ARE extremely approachable and seductive before you seem as they are)

[batsplat]

casey's story breaks my heart. im reading your post about amatriaín and jorge now as well and i just........ these were only kids :( this isn't to assume that all parents/caregivers/people in their lives are negligent and/or abusive but i always wonder who is protecting child/teen/younger adult riders and drivers esp when they are in the highest levels of their sport at such a young age. it seems like, especially in years gone past, there was just so much scope for these kids to be abused. although i remember a couple years ago that clip of a young rider getting hit by mechanics so that kind of stuff isn't even in the past rly.

yeah not much to say really, I mean honestly it's... I'm not going to say every guardian of a professional athlete is abusive because that'd be a crazy thing to say, but I would say that the process that makes these kids so good at what they are does also in many, many cases not reflect particularly well on the parents. tbh a lot of the safeguarding has to be taken more seriously way before these kids even get to a grand prix paddock, but that also isn't easy to do... I can only speak to my own experiences, but as someone who spent a lot of my teenage years hanging around tennis clubs, it is pretty horrifying how normalised parental abuse is in sports circles. it's just something you see all the time - and this is obviously still only the public stuff, the gossip you hear, where you can read between the lines. though honestly, a lot of the times you really don't need to be reading much between the lines. the most extreme example was when a father of a kid I trained with went so far he had the cops called on him when they were at a tournament, but again. obviously this is only the extreme. even a lot of the public abuse is tacitly accepted, and there's a lot of parental behaviour that might not qualify for the 'abusive' label but sure isn't in line with what I view as acceptable. and that's just the parents - you essentially get a lot of cases of them outsourcing this stuff to the coaches, who often get a carte blanche to do with their kids what they please. obviously I'm only familiar with this stuff personally on the juniors circuit, but unhealthy coaching relationships is also a recurring and troubling talking point on the pro circuit. especially in women's tennis you get some pretty horrifying stories. the whole thing just feels pretty rotten

ideally what you've got to do to at least TRY and stamp this stuff out is having a zero tolerance policy - whether it's in clubs or in paddocks. a system of consequences in place where physical or verbal abuse comes with repercussions... I know the risk is you just take this stuff behind closed doors, but to me the starting point problem is that it's also the culture of juniors sports - where if anything treating your kid like absolute shit is almost celebrated at times. you have to make this stuff more shameful. I have no clue to what extent motorcycling juniors clubs look like what I was accustomed to, but in all honesty I reckon you'd see a lot of the same behaviour from parents/mentors - and that at least you've got to address. but obviously that doesn't just like. fix the problem. with someone like jorge, you very obviously did need someone else to step in... but if you don't have very visible, obvious abuse, then how do you enforce that? talent spotters like amatriain have immense power within the system - jorge's father was practically begging this bloke to take jorge on, jorge wouldn't have thanked you for getting rid of him until towards the very end of their partnership, he very likely wouldn't have the career he did without the guy. and it's one of those jobs that (like sports parent) tends to attract the exact type of person you really don't want to give power over kids. again, I'm not saying they're all like that, I wouldn't know, but so many of these managers just have so many stories that raise an eyebrow... even when it's not actively related to how they're treating children, but the fact that so many of them have a history of being aggressive to reporters? the thing is, if they're being awful to these kids in all likelihood we'll never hear about it - but reporters are obviously way more likely to tell people about it. which means that every time I read one of those stories, my main takeaway is that these managers are blokes who will get aggressive when things don't go their way. also not ideal

and below that is a layer that becomes increasingly impossible to even begin to address. I mean, look at casey. I have no reason to accuse his parents of being abusive towards him. I'm not trying to make it sound like I think they're horrible people. and I do think we do always need to be clear here - like yes, I'm talking about a general concern I have here about the relationship between mentor figures and the kids in their care, but obviously that covers a very wide variety of sins. I am not drawing any equivalences between them. there's 'being a bad mentor' and then there's 'having a restraining order filed against you'. so with that massive caveat in place... I agree with you, anon, that I also feel sad about casey's story, and yeah, it makes me uncomfortable

casey does think his parents pushed their dream onto him and ensured that his future would always lie in motorcycle racing... which, I mean. god. if you read him saying it was always his parents' dream side-by-side with him saying they always put pressure on him to work for his dream, then it's just one of those parental dynamics that read as achingly familiar - kids who have been convinced they're doing this for themselves and are then made to feel guilty when they're not living up to their parents' standards. we've sacrificed everything for you, right, you need to make it worth it... casey was told that this was his dream, and the stakes for success and failure were horrifyingly high. he had his entire family's livelihood on his shoulders from age fourteen... his family invested everything into him, told him it was all for his sake- and ensured that he would feel like he was letting them down every time he didn't perform. by some miracle, he had the talent to make it through the system, but think about how precarious his journey was despite being perhaps the most talented motorcycle racer in the history of the sport. how many turning points in his career easily could have gone the other way. for every casey, there are so many more kids who won't make it, and will somehow have to live with the consequences of that failure. and these dynamics... again, I'm not going to label them outright abusive, but think about the kind of stress they place on the parental relationship. idk. it might be a reality of professional sports... parents do often have to sacrifice a lot for their children's career - and given how early kids need to start out to succeed these days, inevitably quite a bit of that desire and drive will come from the parents. but it isn't a reality that sits comfortably with me

so, what do you do about any of this? well, again, I do think you need to do the bare minimum and not tolerate clearly abusive behaviour in sporting environments. which feels like stating the obvious, but this is a low bar that often just isn't being cleared. and yeah - that recent example within the motogp paddock of a rider being assaulted by a team member... definitely not going to be a one-off. just feels inevitable that this will be happening behind closed doors, especially when you get to the lower rungs where the competitors have less power and are less likely to be willing to risk anything (+ are also generally younger)

there's other safeguarding measures you could put in place, but it probably won't happen because people just don't care enough. first off, you need a riders' union - an organisation that's there solely to listen to riders' problems and act on them, advocate on their behalf etc. a big reason why young riders simply are not going to report any abuse is that this will almost certainly cost them professionally. you are essentially asking them to cut off their already limited support network, often the people providing them direct financial support or even employing them. if you cannot build up trust by having the mechanisms in place to take action against the abusive party (through cooperation with the series organisers), as well as provide support to the rider, then the reality is that basically none of them would ever come forward. secondly, you simply need stronger regulation of the career ladder. there's too many of these big name talent spotters who just coast through the paddock by having accumulated influence over the years, with zero reason to believe they have their charges' best interests at heart... often former riders themselves, but that's not exactly a pedagogical qualification. look, it's tricky to regulate because the exact roles these blokes play in riders' lives is so malleable and comes associated with all kinds of job titles - maybe you're a rider coach or manager or team boss or something else entirely. but ideally you want a system where certain privileges - like even entry to certain areas of the paddock - has to come along with accepting a certain level of regulatory oversight. make these blokes directly accountable and force them to uphold a professional code, in line with what you'd expect of any other professional who hold power over a vulnerable population. make it clear to them that they're being watched. I also don't think it's crazy to suggest that if you let minors race in a grand prix paddock, you should have some sort of system in place where the series organisers directly and regularly check in with the minors in their care. there will be a lot of behaviour that children do not themselves see as abusive - obviously it's very plausible that they just won't tell you the truth, but you have to start somewhere. motorcycle racing does actually have an advantage over many other individual sports in how centralised it is, how everyone is constantly going to the same location. they would have the power to enforce some of these standards

thirdly, and this is even less likely than the others to gain any traction. ... man, you've got to make sure these kids have options. this is becoming worse and worse the more professionalised sports become, the more they all chase their youthful prodigies... but, y'know, think about how early so many of these children drop out of school, how it's increasingly unlikely they've had the time to foster any sort of other interest (another theme of casey's account, "I don’t know if I was allowed to have any other attraction"). how motorcycle racing is the only thing they've ever known, how it's their whole world. you're raising a group of young people to whom leaving that world would basically feel like dying. it makes the stakes of everything so enormous, it twists these parental relationships, and it also ensures that certain figures have so, so much power over these kids. obviously nobody is forcing them at gunpoint to race - but in reality, it feels like they don't even have the option of walking away. again, this is obviously a massive problem to address that no sport has entirely sorted out, and the series organisers can rightly say it's not their responsibility to make kids go to school. honestly, my first step would be to just... do something about these age limits. they're too low! too many of these kids are too young for grand prix racing! a starting point is to try and make it so that kids aren't being actively penalised for attempting to pursue an education. this feels another area where you'd really want to have an actual union - even to just have someone to talk to. and again, as long as the series organisers let children race, then I do think it's actually also some of their responsibility to look out for them. realistically, a lot of these kids don't actually want to walk away from racing - however you get to that point, it is also very much their dream. but anything you can do to lessen the influence of the worst people in their lives, anything you can do to at least remind them they can walk away... idk. it's the right thing to do. especially for the kids who aren't succeeding, help them on their way out

now look, this isn't a detailed manifesto. I do know that some other sports have implemented similar-ish measures to the ones above but I couldn't give you a breakdown without some research. I'm not an expert on preventative measures for child abuse, and I'm sure some of these could come with unintended consequences I'm unaware of. I also know all of these things range from 'desperately unlikely' to 'never going to happen'. and even if you did, it's really only taking a pickaxe to the tip of the iceberg. or something. to reiterate what I said at the top, I don't want to make it sound like I think all parents of athletes are abusive. I also don't think the mentors are either. I do think a lot of them are... and even beyond that - the way sports is structured, the way the ladder to professional sports is structured, you are going to see a lot of unhealthy dynamics involving very young people in vulnerable positions. and I don't think that's in any way easy to address... but y'know. sometimes it'd be nice if somebody were at least trying. the sport is doing less than the bare minimum. and for every story we hear, there's going to be so so many more where we'll remain entirely ignorant

[winepresswrath]

genuinely rolin will come out in interviews and be like "this season is about louis taking ownership of his choices and facing himself. it's about accountability for all the vampires" and louis will turn to the camera in the show and say "actually i think the thing lestat said at the trial was correct i had rewritten it in my head a bit because i didn't want to face what i'd done" and "i was a dick to lestat on purpose for decades because i was unhappy. that was shitty of me and contributed to our problems" and lestat will literally address the audience to say "the way i treated you was inexcusable. very literally there is no excuse for what i did. nothing you did or could have done could justify the violence i inflicted on you. i am the person primarily at fault." and subsets of the audience will say "as you can clearly see louis had no power no choices and no agency so it's literally impossible for him to have done anything wrong. except maybe to claudia, because he has more power than claudia. when someone has more power than you in a relationship you become morally equivalent to a person in a coma or maybe a small child. this is very progressive of me." and at that point i think this may not be the show for you. because there is a conversation you can have about how abuse can warp you and how some behaviour which looks genuinely nasty from the outside is honestly just a victim trapped in a traumatic situation with no good outs. but I don't think this show is having that conversation. and when you impose that conversation onto the show regardless of what the show is telling you about Louis' level of culpability or agency you wind up twisting yourself in circles and saying some really fucked up shit about how some people are just designated victims and some people are designated aggressors and nothing the designated victims do counts. on the other hand if i have to watch one more person suggest that the power disparity is irrelevant and louis is "equally toxic" i will throw something. thanks, rolin. glad u enjoy pissing people off.

[stacytea]

okay, lemme just say: Gil-galad, who hated being the king Gil-galad, who had never wanted to be the king in the first place Gil-galad, who was crowned anyway, because there were hardly any finweans left around and the noldor in Beleriand needed a king, just so they can hold onto something, have some semblances of normality in the apocalyptic post-nirnaeth time Gil-galad, who became the high king when he was only 13/14 if we convert to human years, who was barely able to hold back tears in front of crowds as the crown was being placed upon his head Gil-galad, who had been raised by Círdan on Balar, among Teleri, and now he was the number 1 person in a culture that he didn't even feel like was truly his. A culture that so far he had only been taught about, had never participated in. Gil-galad, who politically hardly ever got to make his own decisions, whose role as the king was mostly limited to signing up whatever the parliament needed to validate and who was ascribed the blame whenever an idea backfired Gil-galad, who always wished he could've just lived a simple life on Balar, alongside Teleri, worked on a fishing boat and stuff like that, but instead he was manoeuvred into politics and bureaucracy, and an office that everyone at this point already knew was cursed, overall an enormous amount of responsibility, when he was basically still a child Gil-galad who was handling it all quite well until the third kinslaying happened Gil-galad, who was something like 15/16 in human years when the third kinslaying happened, who then had to face the reality of his reign, which was: he held little to no power. He was just a teenager, put on a throne, so the noldorin power in beleriand didn't seem to be crumbling as badly as it actually was. And he definitely wasn't able to protect his people Gil-galad, who was still doing his best after the third kinslaying, but also he started turning completely self-destructive in his free time. Like, there wasn't a single weekend he wouldn't spend at some party, drinking until he blacked out, taking whatever drugs he could get, getting involved in all kinds of reckless/precarious sexual behaviours Gil-galad, who just wanted someone to show up and take over the kingship , but was aware that all hopes for it had been wiped out when the feanorians attacked Sirion. That any hopes were gone along with Eärendil and his little sons. Gil-galad, whose role was mostly representative, so he had to be present at all kinds of events, no excuses. ,,What do you mean you need a day off? You're the king, ffs!!! Get your hangovered ass over there, it's not like you're going to work'' It pretty much resulted in young Gil-galad quite often showing up in public hangovered/ still lightly drunk/drugged/ overall messy af. And aside from the toll it took on his reputation, like- the king who has some serious troubles with substance abuse is probably easy to be influenced on many matters; it's also the fact that he was crowned to raise the morale among noldor, to message: ,,Look, we still have a king, it's not that bad!" How does it impact the Noldor when they repeatedly see their king barely able to stand upright or retching in some darkened corner? Not well, to say the least. Gil-galad, who felt trapped by the kingship. Gil-galad, who knew there was no way out of it for him, other than by suffering a painful death like basically every one of his predecessors Gil-galad who was being self-destructive and he didn't care about getting hurt because ,,hey, I have no control over my own life anyways :)))'' but also Gil-galad, who grew out of his teenage years and in his early adulthood had some ,,I can't keep living like this" moments , especially after waking up somewhere on the cold ground, feeling like shit and covered in vomit and all other kinds of fluids either his own or someone else's or both

Gil-galad who was in his early twenties (again, converted to human years) and decided to get his life together, because if he's trapped anyway, he can as well try to make it a little less horrible for himself

Gil-galad, who had maybe never got quite the amount of support he needed from Círdan, but Círdan had definitely taught him a lot and enough for him to be able to get by in life and politics

Gil-galad, who started getting his life together in his early twenties, and even if he stayed dangerously close to alcohol/drugs addiction and kept his inclination for partying for the rest of his life, he was actually doing fine

Also sometime after the War of Wrath began, it turned out that Eärendil's sons had made it out alive after all, and maybe it wasn't fixing all Ereinion's problems, but it sure was SOMETHING