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pynkhues · 5 months ago

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Poor Lestat laying in fetal position, looking so small and having dead eyes :( Armand saying he's come home was so creepy, wtf was he thinking. You know, this scene just doesn't make any sense to me, why would Lestat go out of his own will to a place that's the biggest ptsd trigger you can imagine. To punish himself I guess? Sometimes it feels like Rolin wants Lestat to have so much agency that he never allows him to be a victim. Kinda worried how they'll handle s3 wrt this. I hope they won't victim blame him for every bad thing that happened to him because 'he deserved it'.

Oh, anon, I'm sorry because this is probably not what you want to hear, but I love that Armand said that Lestat's come home by going back to the place he was turned and assaulted, because it feels really emotionally honest and true to these characters.

Claudia, Armand and Lestat are all victim-survivors, and I think the show's demonstrated that it's really curious as to what that means.

There's a school of thought that's currently becoming more understood in feminist circles that victim-survivors can often not believe each other, or diminish each other's experiences. The nature of the sort of abuse that Claudia, Armand and Lestat have all experienced is that they've had to process it to a point where they feel they are the expert of their story. They know what happeend to them, they've gone through a lot to know what happened to them, and it's a way for them to take control back of their own stories. An unfortunate side effect is that it can lead to these victim-survivors feeling they know more about your story than you.

They've survived it, so they feel they can tell who's the liar and who's the truthteller, who got off easy, who had it worse, who's stories are more than or less than, and that idea itself is a trauma response manifesting as something ugly, right? Abuse and assault are felt in so many different ways and manifest in so many diffferent forms, but this idea can take hold in victim-survivors as a means of taking control over what happened to them. If they can use - which Lestat does when he weaponises Claudia's rape against her in the train to force her to come home - undermine - which Claudia does against Lestat when she tells Louis not to take Lestat's truth as fact - or diminish - as Armand does against Lestat when he shrugs off Daniel's question about Magnus in 2.03 and talks about Lestat coming home in 2.08 - this subset of people will.

Armand is a character who has endured unimaginable sexual abuse. To divorce that from his understanding of Lestat's own trauma does both characters a huge disservice. How they navigate each other as two survivors of (very different!) forms of sexual violence is interesting, and it's unsurprising that Armand, having been groomed and assaulted by Marius, would view a maker's home as - - well, home.

And frankly regardless of that, if the show stays true to the book, Lestat will live there for a while after Magnus' death because he has no money, no one to call on, and no idea who he is now that he's been turned. Gabrielle lives with him for a while there! Magnus' tower is, in the books, a very complicated place for Lestat.

#why lestat would go there?#oh gosh anon #there are a multitude of reasons why people go back to sites of trauma #in fact it's very very common that people do #the idea that people's choices are dictated by triggers is frankly a very modern concept and one i think is #Not Real #(which is not to say that trigger warnings aren't important - they are - just how much they're engaged with varies drastically)#it's been something adopted online through therapy speak #idk #everyone i know who's been through Things - myself included - just #doesn't actually think like that #and the idea that there's any one way that trauma is processed and understood and talked about i think is either naive or actively harmful #please don't take this the wrong way #i'm not meaning it as a slap on the wrist #you're bringing up an opinion i think a lot of people have #and it's interesting to be asked about it and i'm more than open to having this discussion #especially as i'm working in these spaces at the moment #but yeah i think understanding that trauma isn't pretty or straightforward and does not make you a good ally to other survivors #(in fact can often make you a worse one)#is always an important thing to explore #iwtv asks #lestat asks #armand asks #tw sa

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mad-hunts · 4 months ago

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the relationship that jack had forged with his father was different than the others in ways he couldn't explain. for example, in comparison to matilda whom always seemed to be hyperaware of where her and barton stood, jack felt like he never quite knew where he quote unquote 'was' with his own caretaker — leading to these issues he had with attachment that a therapist long ago once told him were likely due to the fact he grew up in such an unstable environment.

but flying the coop, though it sometimes seemed appealing, was not something jack felt like he could do. because despite everything that barton had put him and their family through, jack felt this strong sense of loyalty to the rest of his siblings as well as to his father. and its not like he had a stable job at the moment; he was trying to secure a spot with a ballet company, after all, which was his true dream. but jack was working part-time as a lifeguard in between all of his classes and ballet related events.

which actually wasn't that bad of a job all things considered. it reminded him at first of how, after julien had died, he'd been afraid of the ocean for several years however. it was like jack's heart was on overdrive even around small bodies of water back then. so developing the strength to overcome this fear was probably the best thing for jack. and considering what had happened to gotham in recent events (with the riddler flooding the city), it made him think about how lucky he was to have done so before that all occurred.

i mean, could you imagine what it would've been like if jack still had thalassophobia with the flood suddenly hitting gotham like it did? lets just say, jack was grateful that jervis filled up some of the silence in the room right after he was burdened with that train of thought. a lopsided smile spread across his lips at jervis's approving comments about colin. jack had actually been keeping the fact he had a boyfriend a secret from his father, for fear that barton would take one look at colin and tell him 'no.'

therefore, it felt good to hear that from someone. the only thing he uttered was a soft 'yeah' in response to that as his eyes darted to jervis's moving hand, ❝ okay. do you like your eggs scrambled, or sunny-side up? and do you want just butter on the bread or is strawberry jam also good with you? ❞ that, as far as he could remember, was the only type they had in the fridge. jack kept his gaze on the cards as jervis spoke now, but let him know he was listening by nodding to what the other was saying.

❝ well, i'd definitely say it's a process. but you know what's funny? i don't know if you believe in any sort of afterlife but... ❞ and that was where barton had cut in, standing at the doorway as if he was waiting to be invited in like a vampire. and trust me when i say the doctor knew that jervis was probably not thrilled to see him. for, not even barton's own son looked to be eager to see him, but maybe that was just because jack knew the two held a general distaste for one another? barton didn't know but he waited in silence in any case for the farceur to leave the room with the medicine he'd given jervis.

he stepped in then only to reveal that, although he wasn't in dire straits anymore, he was still hooked up to an IV on a pole: which was a humble reminder to barton that his degree of brain swelling couldn't go away on its own. though, he wished it could. the expression on his face when jervis spoke to him said all that needed to be said: barton didn't believe for a second that the other meant that. ❝ no, you want to see me burn in hell, don't you? the least you can do is be honest about it. ❞

he stated this in a very 'matter-of-fact' tone, as if the thought of someone hating him that much didn't affect him. an incredulous chuckle left barton's mouth afterward, though, and that wasn't nothing. he slowly but surely used that IV pole as leverage to drag himself over to the cabinet next to jervis's bedside. opening the bottom drawer revealed old clothes of barton's within it, ❝ ravi, the man you met down at the bistro we went to earlier today? he called me, and he immediately asked me if i was in some form of trouble. because ravi told me he had to lie to the cops about us being at the bistro. ❞

barton pulled out a clean shirt to replace his dirty and bloodied one with before turning to face jervis, ❝ and i thought we were in enough trouble already, but marty, the guy i killed was apparently the son of a police captain. meaning those pigs in the GCPD might not actually stop until they find us. so i might need your help with creating a very... elaborate plan to kill him. ❞

Poor Jack's anxiety was written all over his face and body language. Despite his efforts to appear calm and reassuring, Jervis could sense the strain beneath the surface. Though he disliked Barton, he couldn't bring himself to be indifferent. It wasn’t in his nature to ignore someone else's pain, and the last four hours must have been brutal for the Mathis siblings.

A part of Jervis was still ashamed that he had even lost consciousness under the physical and mental strain, sinking into the depths of his mind like something swept away by the Lethe’s currents—except, unlike the myth, Jervis couldn’t forget. His past, fractured as it was, stayed with him. And as much as his memories pained him, Jervis refused to let them go. Forgetting Alice and Sylvie would be like losing them all over again. That was unbearable.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, and his hand instinctively reached for the chain beneath his collar, rolling his and Sylvie’s wedding rings like rings on an astrolabe.

He wasn't a fool. Jervis knew this was a difficult situation they had dragged Jack and Matilda into, and he felt sorry for both. But his empathy ran deepest for Jack. He didn’t know the young man well, but there was an unmistakable connection—a shared understanding, almost like neurons firing in unison. What had Sylvie once told him? Something about fungal hyphae—that they could sense their environment, responding to the slightest change. They weren’t like staid, immobile plants, she had said. Hyphae were dynamic, constantly adapting to their surroundings.

Even all these years, Jervis could still hear her voice, vividly recall the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of such things. "They feel their way through the world," she'd explained, with that endearing mixture of fascination and tenderness he had grown to love so well. "They detect ridges and surfaces, change their shape to fit. They know how to survive, how to grow, even in the strangest conditions."

It had stuck with him, the way she saw life in things most people overlooked. Jervis laid there, nodding faintly as Jack's voice washed over him; the parallel trains of thought made him pause. Maybe grief was like that too—constantly adapting, reshaping itself to fit the cracks in your soul.

Jervis’ hand loosened on the chain as he looked over at Jack, the faint clink of the rings barely audible as they slid along the silver links. He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping briefly. "Yeah... She was everything," he said quietly, almost to himself. His voice wavered, caught between the here and now and somewhere else entirely; hoarse but steadying. "Accepted every part of me, even the worst parts." His fingers tightened again, this time more gently, as if grounding himself.

Behind Jack, Sylvie was seated on the floor, legs folded casually beneath her. She tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You always were too hard on yourself," she murmured, her tone light.

Jervis' breath hitched, his eyes briefly closing before refocusing on Jack. "You and Colin—he sounds good for you. Someone who keeps you on your toes, makes life richer." He paused, blinking slowly as though waking from a dream. "That’s… important."

Sylvie stood now, a faint shimmer at the edge of his vision, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm as she passed. "I’m still here, you know." Her voice was soft, steady. "You called me."

Jervis swallowed hard, his hand instinctively reaching for the space where her touch lingered before dropping back to his side on the mattress. "Breakfast for dinner sounds good," he said, almost absently, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think… I’d like that."

His eyes flicked once more to where Sylvie had been; gone without a trace, but the weight of her presence still lingered like a hint of smoke drifting in the breeze.

"You know…" Jervis started again, the words coming slowly as he glanced back at Jack while he began sifting through the tarot cards. "It's strange. Sometimes you think you’re done… that you’ve made your peace, and then the grief sneaks back up on you. Makes you feel like you’re right back where you started... it's almost enough to drive anyone mad... but it's a process, right?"

The moment shattered with a soft clearing of a throat from the doorway. Jervis tensed, every muscle recoiling. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Oh, bloody hell… this bloke, again?

It took everything in him not to snap at Barton to piss off. Irritation surged through his chest, white-hot, but exhaustion won out. He almost couldn’t bring himself to react, in all honesty, the weariness in his bones outweighing the anger... You’re like a damn cockroach… he thought, half-bitter, half-bemused. Terribly rude of you to interrupt.

"Hey, citrouille," Barton said casually to Jack. "Mind stepping out for a minute? I need to talk to Jervis."

Jack hesitated, glancing between his father and Jervis, but eventually rose. Barton patted him on the shoulder, tone light, as if unaware—or possibly indifferent—to the tension in the air.

As Jack left, Barton held up his phone, waving it in front of Jervis. "I just got an interesting phone call I thought you might want to hear about."

Jervis exhaled, met Barton’s gaze. It took every ounce of flagging willpower not to tell him exactly where he could stick his ‘interesting’ call. Sylvie’s presence slipped further from his mind, swallowed by the suffocating weight of Barton’s intrusion.

He forced a tired smile, his voice flat. "Glad to see you back on your feet," he finally muttered. "At least one of us is standing upright."

#divingdownthehole #tw: mentions of murder.#tw: fear.#AHH okay (': well i'm glad to hear that you're okay with me bringing his bottle blonde meanie-head self back LOL #but you're so welcome!! you seriously deserve to be showered in compliments in my humble opinion for how beautifully you've #been portraying / writing your version of jervis :D but oh no not at all!! i think that everything you've been including in your replies ha #been REALLY good stuff for lack of better words haha. but TBH i totally understand giving your characters a tragic backstory as in-#my opinion even though i hate doing it at the same time... i feel like it makes them more compelling so i can't help it JSJSJ #but yeah i totally understand what you're saying + i'd never accuse you of that! so its all gooddd <33 but aww well i'm just telling you th #truth!!! you are AMAZING at painting pictures in people's minds of what's going on with your jervis (or in mine in this case) and you #deserved to be recognized for that (: but yeahhh gosh. now IDK if this is the right way to look at it but i feel like this might be one #of those situations where if a character knew what would happen in the future then they might've taken the opportunity to rest BUT #you know your jervis best OFC so i'm not going to assume that of him!! but no matter what its pretty much a universal truth that what #he went through was terrible and at the risk of sounding like a broken record... your jervis truly did deserve better 💔#but you're absolutely right. hindsight is everything TBH

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