#groomed to assume abuse is normal

[furiousgoldfish]

abused kids reaching late teenage years: it seems I have trauma symptoms, which is odd because nothing traumatic had ever happened to me... sure I don't have many memories of my childhood but I am sure that everything that happened was 100% my fault and also normal and I am supposed to be strong enough to be over that and it was a long time ago so. That's all good. Now. I need to hide these trauma symptoms or my parents will kill me.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

suddenly got a really vivid image of my head of like a c!prime home movie sort of thing and like it starts off and it looks like just two brothers hanging out and c!tommy's just awkward around the camera but as it captures what’s clearly a long span of time c!tommy slowly gets covered in more and more injuries that never seem to heal and is clearly just playing along with whatever he thinks c!dream wants out of sheer terror and it slowly breaks down more and more over each clip, somehow becoming more and less genuine in the exact worst possible ways. by the end hes all but catatonic and blatantly very much a dead corpse only continuing because of magic with injuries it’d be impossible to survive otherwise and c!dream is still excitedly chatting to him like nothings wrong and beating his ass at mario kart.

[porcelaintoybox23]

One of the darkest aspects of atsv is how Gwen was groomed. When Jess and Miguel took her in, I got "vibes," so to speak. The trailers obviously didn't help, but those painted Miguel in a bad light, unlike Jess.

Gwen, a 15-16 year old, goes with these two in the heat of a tense moment. I don't think anyone had ill intentions, but that doesn't negate the results.

I was shocked when we learned that Gwen hadn't gone home in months. Jess and Miguel become her whole world and take on the roles of her parental figures. In this time, she has become emotionally dependent on them and their approval. Gwen is scared to disappoint them. She's threatened with being returned to her dimension with no support, a place where last anyone saw, her father was trying to arrest her for murder.

Jess uses Gwen's admiration and dependence to manipulate her. She knows Gwen fears letting her down. She goes from being smiley and supportive to blunt and cold.

Gwen is scared. Whether they intended to or not, Miguel and Jess essentially groomed and emotionally abused her. The second she justifiably makes a mistake or just acts like a normal teen who lacks interpersonal relationships, they send her home.

At any point did they try to help Gwen reconcile with her dad? What did they tell her so she'd be fine with her father dying?

I know the dictionary definition is more of a nsfw nature, but I do believe it can occur in just a manipulative manner. They took in a vulnerable child, manipulated her, and threw her out.

Her whole arc reads like a kid disowned for coming out.

Note: I'm a black woman. It's not my job to make you guys feel comfortable with a clearly uncomfortable topic. Complain to the studio who wrote the film. I no longer argue with people who assume the worst of my posts or misinterpret what I painstakingly try to clarify. I don't care. It's my post, and I shall delete and block whoever I want. I'm not the government.

Like it or not, Jess and Miguel, grown adults, take a child with them. They are responsible for her. That is how that works. POC aren't free from criticism. POC can be evil to white women. This is a fictional movie, bitch to the studio who made them the obvious bad guys.

Thank you 😊

[zeyris-daydreams]

Sanctimony - yandere!sunday x reader

Note: in celebration of our glorious halovian, cult leader Sunday has been written! Be mindful of topics of implied cult grooming, abused becomes the abuser, implied dubcon. Kinda manipulation

» Sanctimony - Pretend or hypocritical religious devotion or righteousness. Someone who is sanctimonious will preach about the evils of drug use whilst drinking a beer, for example. Associated with a holier-than-thou attitude.«

All members of The Family were taught appropriate conduct and manners of speech. How to act and how to speak, what is good and what is bad for the mind. It was all thanks to benevolent Sunday that you knew the right way. Perhaps it was partially due to how long you've known him that you enjoyed perks that other family members didn't enjoy, such as getting off the hook for minor misdeeds.

Like any normal day, you had things to do. It was your duty to clean one of the rooms this time around, and you wiped the counters down and cleaned the inside of each cabinet with precision like always. To do so meant to be useful, and usefulness was highly sought after within The Family. Only when all members put in the work can The Family be a real family. Only then can everyone live peacefully. The kitchen was adorned in shades of brown, giving it an utterly homely feel. A perfect setting to get lost in thought.

As you wiped down the table you pondered over the rest of your tasks for the day. You couldn't be called a caretaker or even a higher ranking member, yet some of your responsibilities were akin to one. Sometimes it was requested of you to accompany the head of the family with executing his smallest tasks, be it destroying paperwork or arranging members into groups for some activities.

Today was no different, although for some time now you've doubted Sunday's need for you. You've known him for a while now, being taken into the family as an orphan, but it still came off as a surprise. It wasn’t clear as to why he'd choose to pay special attention to you. You tried not to ponder over it, even though you knew he had responsibilities. Instead you chalked it up to you being an orphan - something Sunday could relate to. He has known you for a good while before officially being called the head, and in those few weeks, he was very keen on showing you the ways of the family. He explained to you the principles, why such a life was great for you. It was almost.. serene, in that sense.

Sunday, despite his calm demeanor, had a way of speaking that penetrated your very being. He was convincing, and could truly win your mind with a few big words. Maybe it was your own willingness to believe it.

As such, the halovian was your primary source of knowledge since you've been taken in. And ever since you had not a single reason to doubt him. It was strange, how you both came such a long way since. You, still a normal, boring member. Him, the head of The Family.

In moments as such, where you mindlessly used cleaning products on surfaces like the fridge, you truly felt common. There was nothing making you stand out from the ordinary, and in these times of weakness, you doubted the necessity of your existence. You gave your head a light shake as though to cleanse it from such foolish thoughts, and then washed your hands from the substances you've used for cleaning. Repeating tasks daily gave you a sense of routine, and said routine easily caused the time to pass by faster. You assumed it was merely from doing things on an autopilot.

Still, once your duty was done you walked to your room, situated on the far north end of the mansion. It was time to assist Sunday with his tasks, and while you knew he could've had a better assistant, a part of you felt happy for such an arrangement. It would crush your spirits to have it otherwise.

Ever since you remembered, you wished to impress him.

Perhaps it was a recent development, but for the days that you were to be an assistant you tried to make yourself look better. You brushed your hair out right before the visit, washed your face to give it a fresh look. You changed your clothes into one's freshly washed and dried to enjoy their flowery scent. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you were the image of what family members should be. Long dress and free hair, properly covered shoulders and no vulgar cleavage.

You looked proper, appropriate. The dress was a creamy beige, with puffed out sleeves which ended with light, short, and skin tight lace. It was usual for women of the family to look like this, and for a moment you’d go as far as to think of yourself as a proper representative.

With a smile on your face you headed up, deciding to arrive early today. Maybe if luck was on your side, you could spend a few minutes chatting. There was hardly time for it now after all, with Sunday's large responsibilities, you felt like a speck.

You climbed your way up the stairs once out of your room, feeling the wooden handrail beneath your fingertips as you did. The stairs were a dusty yet a deep blue color, and you watched your feet as you walked, before finally getting to where Sunday usually worked.

Unsurprisingly so this floor was only available to higher members, but perhaps due to the favor, you were allowed in. As you approached the grand, engraved wooden doors, they opened, and out of it stepped a woman.

You remained still, blinking as you observed. She had gorgeous purple hair, spilling from beneath her hat onto her shoulders, and she was adorned in a suit similar to ones that male members wore. She had heels on her feet, a gorgeous shade of red that too stained her lips. With a smile she passed by you, and headed out.

From that alone you were aware she was not from The Family. The suit showed her cleavage, and generally such an outfit wasn't appropriate for women either. It wasn't correct to wear pants like this, and so you frowned to yourself - you initially ignored it, walking into the office. You knew this place already. Perhaps it was one of the collaborators that just walked out.

There he was, sat behind the desk with a folder in his hand, the curtains pulled half closed behind him. His office was muted in color - for focus he once said - even though there were plenty of other decorations. The desk in front was a rich brown color, the wood imported from somewhere far away. Belobog, you recalled. It was strengthened due to the biting cold it grew in.

Gripping sides of your dress you bowed as per usual, until he gave you a sign to straighten again. It was trained, routined. It always earned approval.

“You're earlier this time, aren't you?” And yet a smile pushed at his lips. Perhaps it was a recent development, but you've been growing more and more fond of such an expression. “That's good. I have some papers that I would like you to shred”

The work you did was never hard or important. You knew that, but you chose to remain oblivious. As long as you were useful, as long as Sunday was proud.. you'd do anything.

Gracefully so you took the mentioned papers, before heading to the other room. It was joined to the office, and as you walked by your eyes lingered on many pictures on the wall. They portrayed many precious heads of The Family, including Gopher, one you've known to be the head when you've initially joined. The shredder was placed in a corner of the darkened room, and mindlessly you've put the papers into it, clicking the button. And as per always the machine ate the paper, cruel teeth cutting through each singular sheet to create something akin to pasta. Pasta was something you've seen often, given your duties. Such comparison was to be expected.

and as always you glanced round when it was shredding; the room full of documents and alike, antiques or other items of importance. It was a mess, as always.

Once you were sure everything was shredded you returned to the main office.

To say the work was easy was an understatement, for the most part you sat on one chair and mindlessly gave Sunday the items he asked for. Whether it was some water or a pen that was right in front of him anyway, and yet this sort of work was much better than other duties you could've done.

It was with Sunday, after all. In your life you've learned already that the only space that's safe is space with Sunday.

He was all the good that you had.

That day you went to sleep thinking of the beautiful outsider you saw.

—

“It's like.. baking” Sunday said, his gloveless then hands opening the paper that held the flour within the package. “You can try to guess the right course of action, but it would take too long.”

The weather was warm that day, as the two of you spent time in the kitchen. It wasn't very long after you were initiated into The Family, and so Sunday took special care to help you adjust.

You observed carefully, intently, how he measured out the right amount with a cup.

“Father taught me that.”

His words made sense. Back then you were still an ordinary member. And Sunday? He was on his way to ascension - an achievement only a select few could brag about. He was chosen specifically, as you assumed for intelligence. Sunday had talent like no other.

After all, the logic in his words was consistent. Sunday never once said something to disprove that, and everything he said or did was upheld by his beliefs. In this sense, it was beautiful. It made you yearn to know more.

“To bake?” Perhaps the question was foolish. But Sunday didn't expect you to look further through it, after all. You were his last task; produce a devout believer, and only then could he take on a greater role.

The corners of his lips were pulled up, and he smirked, eyes closing for a moment. The sun hit him just right then, it was a spring afternoon. Warm, so full of life. So was Sunday. “By extension, yes. It is all thanks to him that I understand things. Once you understand the core rules of life, you can make your own conclusions.”

It made sense, you thought. Maybe it was your inability to read that decided you had a hard time catching onto his words. That's what he liked about you, too. You were good, perhaps too good to truly comprehend how deep certain things went. Such as the need to reign, to establish order.

Your hands touched the dark counter as you watched him crack two eggs into the bowl. “Generally there are rules to be followed. Be it the order of ingredients and what ingredients can go into a cake, right?” you nodded.

Sunday took it as a sign to continue. “the same goes for life. You can't do certain things sometimes, and some things call for a specific order of action. You can notice it within.. marriage, for example.”

The eggs slid off the flour in the bowl. You focused on them for a moment, and then looked at Sunday once more. His golden eyes met yours. “Marriage?”

“Yes, marriage for instance. Or other ceremonies, or celebrations. Two people don't have children before they marry, nor do they do other things before that. It's like baking a cake, you need a certain course of action.”

It made sense when he explained it like that. If people did things correctly, maybe you wouldn't have been an orphan. Not that you've ever known your parents. What you were sure of is that they must've done something to not deserve to live anymore. That's why they weren't here.

“After the cake is mixed together, you bake it. You don't bake the ingredients by themselves." It was this that made everything simple: what humans needed in life was a specific order. Rules to be followed.

You accepted that.

—

Perhaps it was for forementioned encounter that you wished to know more. And that's precisely why you asked Sunday for a book; which you were given with some reluctance. Being the favorite, he could.. avert his gaze when necessary.

It was a standard catalogue of animals, nothing out of the ordinary. In his assumption, you merely needed something to look through. He couldn't have known, then, that you didn't intend to do just that; perhaps it was the smart outsider that caught your interest. It wasn't the only time you've seen her since then, but it wasn't a mere fascination.

You lacked the understanding to know what truly intrigued you about her; but it stood for yearning. It seemed that she wasn't Sunday's favorite guest, given the nature of their discussions.

He'd be disappointed to learn you were eavesdropping.

The only words that you could recall from their discussions were words such as ‘centralisation’, ‘oligarchy’ or ‘logistics’. It was strange to admit that the woman was the one using such complicated words, ones that meanings you couldn't comprehend. It was strange to be exposed to such a level of knowledge from someone from the outside. Usually, you only took Sunday's words as a source of wisdom. Perhaps it was people that he knew that were simply so smart. Or maybe you were just less intelligent. There was one thing you were good at, though.

You could understand the tone of discussion well. One thing you always were brilliant at was to decipher someone's mood by their words or mannerism alone.

Maybe it was the heightened sense of anxiety, but Sunday never made it sound like a bad thing, and so you took it for a gift of sorts. Reading people like this allowed you to make your words pleasant, even if it meant bending backwards to appease them. Sunday always said it's the quality of a good person.

From that alone you could tell that perhaps the woman's propositions were perceived as a threat to the head of the family; Jade, as he called her, seemed to be unsavory. Why did he have to keep welcoming her in discussion, then?

You supposed you'd never understand. Maybe because you couldn't see into the future as well as Sunday did, and that's why you wished to learn. Maybe then you could offer him comfort on the same level as he himself was; it was a foolish thought.

Once you retreated to your room you made sure to lay the catalogue down on the carpet, before stepping towards your bed. Slowly you crouched, mindful of the creaky floor, before you stretched your arms out underneath the furniture, grabbing the papers you were working on.

For a few days now you have begun to try and decipher the alphabet. It would've been easier, were you guided in your study; but such things weren't exactly allowed. You looked at your hands, and then the yellowed paper sheets.

Sitting on the floor like that now, you felt hopeless. It was your heightened determination to learn that stopped you from handing yourself to Sunday and confessing what you've done. Internal turmoil one could call it. Rules were necessary, yet you broke them.

But it was for a good cause, surely. That's why you finally stood up, walking back to your carpet to then lay on your stomach, putting the papers near the book to lay them down. You began with the poetry days ago, one that you knew by heart now. It was something Sunday recited often, you recalled. And so it was ingrained in your mind, making it easier for you to analyze it. It would've taken you long to find the correct piece of poetry, was it not on a bookshelf you remembered. Sunday often reached for said book, and so you recalled where to find it. The page was bookmarked, his favorite writing. One written by a head of the family of the past. Created far before Gopher, far before Sunday. It was a source of pride for each person who held the control there.

The world, a beast with reckless stride,

A roaring tide, untamed, untried.

Chaos feeds on whim’s delight,

But darkened paths must meet the light.

A chain of laws, a sculptor’s chisel,

To shape the wild, to cool the sizzle.

Freedom's song, though sweet, distorts,

Breeding discord in courts and ports.

Let towers rise, austere, severe,

A voice of reason, sharp and clear.

The errant heart must yield, must bow,

For order's crown must reign, and now.

Beneath the yoke, the world may chafe,

But in its grip, we shall be safe.

No flickering spark, no fleeting dream—

The iron hand redeems supreme.

You began with reciting the words, each word separate. It was an easier task than if you had to go off with nothing, and soon enough the sheet for the alphabet was finalized.

The greater task was to actually use it, and so you tried, writing down small sentences. To honor Him, you started with Him too. “Sunday has golden eyes.”

Perhaps if you knew it when you were younger, it wouldn't give you such a headache, your vision beginning to swim after too long. It was time to take a break, and so you pushed the papers into the book, closing it. And soon it joined the other ones, right beneath your bed.

—

Punishment should fit the crime, and reward should be limited to cases of conditioning. Sunday was aware that's how it should go, as he was told before by ones who knew this before him. That's why unsavory questions or doubts were met with a singular glance only, one very displeased.

Maybe he wasn't in the mood for bantering over it. It was a good day after all, and despite the garden being enclosed, you still enjoyed your time in the shade of an apple tree. The grass felt soft beneath you, and the bark was large. You didn't need anything else.

“Shouldn't the bird still try to fly, then?” You asked. Sunday told you a story of a bird he and his sister encountered once. It was a tragic tale, but one full of lessons. One of which was to not doubt that what is weak should be guarded. “The bird can't know that it's in danger if it doesn't try, right?”

Initially he welcomed such curiosity. “Would you let a child touch hot coal so it may learn it burns?”

It was a food for thought. You frowned thoughtfully, nose scrunching up. “No..?” Certainly, you'd rather be stopped than to touch the coal and have a scar for the rest of your life.

“Exactly. A small being like a bird can't comprehend the dangers, all it can comprehend is the needs it has. It can't plan forward, and merely acts on instinct. We can't say then, that such creatures have true freedom of decision”

Sunday was dressed in a plain shirt with flowy sleeves. It fit him and it fit the weather.

“I understand.”

It was only a few months since you were here, three or so. And yet you started to grasp these concepts as it was expected of you, perhaps far quicker than he himself did back then.

“Good. You are smart, you're catching on quick.”

Reward should be only applied in cases of conditioning. He didn't know why he said it - but you smiled brightly. Was it his approval that earned such a reaction? He wished to see it more often, by means of which he could get his hands on. You should smile only for him. You should be happy about his approval only.

—

In some such cases though, punishment was necessary. But it was never called that, no. He was taught to call it the consequence. That way, if someone hears it, they know that the actions are merely a consequence of what they did. He himself was subjected to it often; before he finally learned.

He just wished he didn't have to bring it forth this early on, you were doing so well. Too well maybe, he'd be foolish to expect you to be perfect. Only he was perfect.

You arrived at the office after a caretaker called you in, but you weren't given a reason. Usually Sunday told you what he needed you for, but not this time. And like all other times this happened, you felt sick in anticipation.

You knocked, and before you could even knock another time the doors opened. It was quick, your fist still in the air before it lowered. “Come in.”

And walk in you did. The office always looked the same, same portraits on the wall. Same plant, same arrangement on the desk, same books on the shelves. Aside from one you stole to learn the alphabet.

The doors shut behind you with a click, and he stood aside. “Come sit, but before the desk now” before you could question you felt his gloved hands on your shoulders, guiding you forward. Only an exhale left you when you were sat on the spinning chair, his hands pressing you into it with some firmness.

You read his mood well. That was all you needed to know he was displeased about something, and your mind began to spiral. What could you do to cause such a reaction? Your thoughts wandered to your worst misdeed.

As soon as you were sat you saw him pull out a ruler from his pocket, and on instinct your hands slid underneath the desk, to your lap.

“Do you know why I've called you here?”

It was a simple enough question, but you could tell the undertone. If he wanted your mere company he wouldn't have asked.

You cleared your throat, eyes glancing at him before frantically focusing on the desk, and your head hanging low. “Uhm, not.. not exactly.”

Sunday sighed.

He shook his head, as though he couldn't believe your words. As though he expected more from you. Did you disappoint him? “And here I thought I taught you better than that. I'm not most pleased with you, (name).”

It felt.. strange in a sense. Whenever he approved of your work or your improvement in the family you felt like you were the happiest person alive. And just as when he was disappointed in you, you felt like you were the worst thing in existence.

The idea of not being seen as fit had your cheeks burn up already. You looked to that same old Belobogian desk to avoid his gaze. Yet you felt its intensity, and that was enough to have tears form in your eyes, pooling behind your trembling eyelids.

“Hands back on the desk” was all he said. But you couldn't stop the tears running down your cheeks, you couldn't stop to think.

He didn't even start yet, and you were a mess already. Perhaps being told that you displeased him earned such a reaction. Especially after being called into his office, not knowing what for. “I'll ask you something clearer, and you better say the truth. Why have you missed the confessional?”

Sunday was aware by now. But it wasn't the point; only by admitting your sin could you begin to repent. And if you stayed in rejection, a punishment wouldn't make you understand your fault. He was close to ascension, he couldn't let your misbehavior delay it.

You recognised the ruler in his hand, it was thin and see through. That didn't mean that it didn't hurt, you tasted it once or twice before.

Sat in his office chair, you couldn't help but shift. Your hands felt weak, and your heart was knocking against your ribcage furiously from anxiety. Surely the feeling of sickness in your stomach around Sunday was from how much you loved him and appreciated him?

He held the ruler in his single hand, snapping it against the palm of his other, gloved one. He walked in front of the desk slowly, back and forth. “I rescheduled my tasks specifically to be on confessional duty this week, so I could see you, but you didn't come. What were you so busy with?”

He merely wished to surprise you. His tasks were more and more with his future promotion. He thought that would make you happy. But you didn't show up.

Each time you heard the ruler hit Sunday's palm you felt your hair stand, goosebumps so profuse you felt cold. “I didn't finish my work-”

Smack, the ruler hit your knuckles, and it took all your might to stay upright. Sunday felt angry, at himself in a sense. Did he not teach you correctly? He wondered how many things you've missed during his absences. After all, some of his workload now began to be his public image. He couldn't be here as much as he would've liked, and the fact that his absence was all it took for you to disobey- Sunday didn't know true anger until that day.

“I know it's not true. In fact I've been informed you tend to your tasks with suspicious haste. Were you busy to be this quick on your feet?”

Each time he asked, you gained conviction. Conviction that he knew everything, that he was merely stalling. To you, it felt as though Sunday was giving you an opportunity to admit your wrongs. Maybe he would've been nicer if you did it, he always was. You bit your bottom lip. “I was- I wished to read.”

The words had a difficulty passing through your throat. Only then did you meet his gaze to gauge for a reaction, but you quickly looked down once more. To say he was displeased was an understatement. Surely he was so disappointed to a degree that it brought him surprise?

Silence followed for a few seconds. You only felt his hands go to your shoulders. “I see the guilt about it eating at you for a while. Are you sorry?”

He knew what you were doing. He knew, because he knew his book was missing. He knew, because someone told him, too. Sunday was just surprised you broke down that fast. In a sense, he was pleased. He wanted to be the only one you relied on so much. You should look at him.

“Y-yes-”

It was scary. But you knew it would be fine now. All you had to do after confessing was to repent.

—

Sunday quickly learned how to convince people of his ideas. He believed them, yes, but as the future guiding light, he knew more than that.

If he was to truly be there, then he had to uphold ideas aside from ones for others. And while they made sense, they weren't for him. In that, he was there only to make sure such rules and order were applied.

They didn't apply to him.

Sunday knew how to make people believe, a thing that he took from his caretaker, Gopher Wood. To produce a believer for his Ascension, he needed conviction.

But perhaps manipulation of feelings and situations wasn't above him either. That's why, shortly after meeting you, he had to root things into your mind.

Such as feeling shame for doing things wrong. Naturally, that's how all people should be. And yet, specifically with you, there was a pleasure in that.

You were too good for this world.

Vaguely he recalls how you asked him once about something. It wasn't important, as you both were discussing things that hopefully let you understand the ideas of the family better. You were new after all, fresh. Hardly a month in.

“I just don't see why we would need that, when we were given our intellect to make decisions.”

Such words were too smart, and you weren't supposed to question. Sunday never had the right to ask things like this, and it formed him into who he was today. You didn't have this right either.

It wasn't that Sunday needed you to be his successor, as he was successor to Gopher Wood. But that's precisely why he also taught you differently. Rules didn't apply to him, they applied to you.

He tipped his head, and you felt like you asked something wrong. “Does a worm know whether the rain is snow or water?” He began. “Does a mortal know what way is better for them, when they aren't omniscient?”

You shrank in your seat. It was supposed to be a casual conversation over tea, outside. Why did you expect to be on equal footing? “Do you believe you know better than me?”

The words struck you when he spoke them. Did you believe that? No, you could never. Sunday was the wisdom and he was the light and to him you owed nearly everything. You didn't believe that.

But you believed now that questioning the authority was wrong. The family gave you everything. You could never believe to be above them. To be above Sunday. He himself learned such a manner of speech all these years ago. To question someone is to believe them to be lesser. That's what he was told, and so he never questioned.

Immediately your eyes watered and you shook your head. You didn't want your only friend to be angry at you, or to have any dislike for you. “No, no, I didn't want it to look like that-” you started off immediately, apologetic beyond belief. He was stopping himself from smiling. You were pathetic, pliable.

You were too good.

—

Sunday scolded you for reading that time. But you knew this wasn't the full extent of your activity that he'd disprove of. After all, it was only a matter of practice before you read more. And so you did, writing and reading, only this time with more secrecy.

You were smart enough to take time on your duties so it wasn't apparent that you were looking forward to something, but not too long as to stay in a room where male members would be. For instance, there were places with an hourly schedule, during which women were allowed at specific times, and then men at specific times. Not all spaces were shared this way.

Still, with not much reading, you couldn't be aware yet of such absurdity. That's why as per usual you tried to show less vigor, trying to distract yourself from being overly joyous. It was only the thought of reading that got you through the day now. Sunday hardly ever discussed concepts larger than the family with you. And through your own study you found said concepts. Are there really so many planets?

You wondered if they followed Order too. If this path of life is perfect, surely other people should know it too? You knew you couldn't ask. If you did, then perhaps he would have known that you do something you shouldn't.

As much as the guilt from sinning was decreased, you still didn't want to cause him further disappointment. Maybe you didn't care about dooming yourself, as long as he wasn't displeased. As long as you still had his approval.

The clock gave you a way to free yourself of your duties, and you hurried off upstairs again. The mansion was large, but living there so long, you knew the pathways by now. And although it was still just evening, something felt amiss. Despite walking through the already similar corridors and up the same old stairs, you felt like something was out of place. Perhaps that thing made you too aware of your surroundings. A crow watched you through a window.

You didn't enjoy reading this time.

—

The curiosity finally got the better of you. Because as soon as you could, you hid behind one of the dark blue walls. And so you waited there, and you anticipated until the pink haired lady left the familiar office. Jade. From what you heard from eavesdropping, Sunday was becoming infuriated with her. That was enough to convince you this lady was a threat, no matter how many times she came here. More complicated words were uttered, ones you could recognise this time. Ones you remembered from reading.

‘quid pro quo’, for something akin to an exchange. ‘aberration’, something out of place. Out of ordinary.

‘anachronism’, something not right depending on the time. You couldn't make out what they discussed yet, as the walls weren't that easy to listen through. They were old and aged, and you assumed they'd be older than Sunday himself.

Still, once she left, you sneaked around. Perhaps to figure out more. Surely she troubled Sunday. And to help him, you needed to understand- you needed to learn. Yes, you needed the knowledge. You waited for her to take a step towards the stairs with a bated breath.

Initially you wished to follow her, but before you could even start, she turned her head to you. She smiled. And then she began to walk towards the stairs, descending with an unseen grace. She wore jewels again, and you swallowed. Without thinking, you rushed after her.

—

Sunday pulled the teacup towards his lips. It was another day of bliss in summer warmth. You were adjusted now, you understood. Which is why he could enjoy your presence more casually. A reprieve from his usual tasks of learning and duties, a moment for him to just be Sunday. Not a twin of order, not an heir.

With your hair tied you sat in front of him, your lemonade in both your hands as you watched the horizon outside, through the kitchen window. He was sitting in such a way that his back was turned to the glass. At least he was in the way of the sun that surely would burn your eyes otherwise.

“Well.. doesn't that imply everyone can twist things?”

You both discussed matters of knowledge being a tool and power. It was only natural to have such discussions, what else would you speak about?

“That's right. Which is why not everyone should have access to knowledge, and not everyone should listen to random words by strangers.” He started. “All it takes for people to listen to words is to speak with wisdom, falsified or true. You can recognise a liar by their words, if they aren't pleasant to human nature, they may be false.”

What Sunday said was right. His words were pleasant to your human mind, so they must've been true. But his words were always pleasant to you, even when he didn't speak of knowledge. Even when he only praised you.

“You're right. It's easy to get the wrong idea if we hear things and we don't have anyone to clarify it for us” that was correct too. It was easy to get caught up in doubt if you didn't have enough knowledge to defend yourself. You knew you'd never have such knowledge, you relied on Sunday.

—

Jade seemingly led you further and further, until you caught up to her on the first floor. Each time you took her eyes off her, she seemed to be further away. Still, finally she walked into a corridor. It felt silly, you thought. Wasn't she intending to leave? Despite your better judgment you followed, and soon had her standing near the end of a hallway, the window exposed the darkening horizon.

“You seem to need me for something?”

Her voice was silky, full of confidence. She smelled of jasmine and expensive alcohol. You only smelled said drink once, when it wasn't meant for you.

You stood in place as you watched her, blinking. “I want to know.” What did you want to know? You weren't sure. You simply wanted to know. The woman smirked. “What are you willing to give up for it?” Was all she asked.

You stepped forward, with more confidence. She didn't seem to be troubled by it, head tipped to the side. “Give up for it? I'm not.. sure.” It was hard to say what she meant, and given your confusion, she clicked her tongue. “Knowledge is a hefty gift, is it not?”

“I want to know about you. Who are you?”

Jade hummed. As she stepped close to you she leaned to your ear. “I am the truth, and a diplomat.” She hummed, her long nails tucking your hair behind your ear. Why were her nails so decorated?

“Free or charge this time; you are made for more, child. Seek and you shall find.” With that, she walked by you, and you couldn't get yourself to turn around.

The words echoed in your mind briefly. Seek and you shall find.

Look and you'll see. Look where?

The feeling of guilt was overrun with a feeling of determination. You read even more that night.

—

A thing you learned from books was that humans made choices. And such books were a product of them! It was precisely that the choice existed that you learned so much of the world. So many animal facts, so many words you couldn't comprehend. Biopsy for instance. It sounded interesting, whatever that was - all you knew it was related to the body, and to doctors.

And precisely because of the choice you wished to learn. And that's why you read. And you learned to read. With all that combined, you could think your own thoughts. With so many new words you didn't know, you could draw conclusions.

Within the books you weren't supposed to take and see, you found a strange sense of wisdom. Because no one paid you any mind, no one cared if you spent time in Sunday's office. And that's precisely where you found books you didn't understand; so many of them. Because she has told you to seek.

A girl who has nothing to do is a girl who has nothing to lose, and precisely through words you understood that. Because people within books were whoever they wished to be, such as a fairytale you found within the bookshelf of Sunday's office.

A fairytale of a girl locked in a tower by her mother, and a brave young man saving her. And then the books of more complicated themes, like tyranny, one you only understood recently. With Sunday delegated so often, it felt too easy.

It felt as though someone wanted you there, and you had assumed it's fate. Fate which allowed you to draw your own conclusion. By any means, the family wasn't evil.

You'd never assume that. But it wasn't for you. Your yearning for knowledge wasn't unnatural, and after gathering your courage so long, you finally decided. You'd leave, and you'd learn. But maybe without anyone knowing, so as to not break his heart.

You opened the doors to the office with a book in your hand, slowly walking in. It was a tale of society governed by a tyrant, you assumed. A strange date for the title, 1984. Still, you moved slowly and with grace to the bookshelf, gently pushing the book into its former spot. In doing so you looked at other books, wondering which one of these you haven't read yet.

For the head of the family, Sunday was surely gone more often than not. You reached for a book, before looking out a window. A crow sat there, and it watched. Maybe you assumed it yearned for knowledge too, so you grabbed one of the books, and left.

—

The breeze was getting colder now, and you closed your eyes to feel the setting sun on your skin. You and Sunday were sat atop a green hill, the grass ticklish against your body, the only barrier being the dress you wore.

Your head turned to Sunday, and you saw he was deep in contemplation. His eyes had a vacant look, the orange sun reflecting in his golden eyes. The conversation however continued.

“What about if someone doesn't want that?” Sunday faced you soon after.

“Who wouldn't want this? It's a peaceful life. With a preordained order of things, everyone will be happy.”

You weren't so sure. Nearing Sunday's ascension, he explained to you the course of life each member of the family has. They'll live and grow, and take care of their shared space. And they'll pray and sing odes, and then they'll marry, and have children.

People were paired by caretakers usually, in accordance to what they deemed fit. Such life was foreseen for every member with no exception, even though the idea confused you.

“Well- I understand.. but can we be sure that's what everyone wants?” You weren't trying to stir trouble. Perhaps you were hoping that by asking you’d understand. Sunday brushed a stray hair from your face as he smiled. He was like the sun on a warm day. Perhaps better than the sunrise then.

”Humans can be..” Halovian looked to the side, before his eyes met yours once more. They had the prettiest yet most conflicting colours. “To put it simply.. They do believe what they want is what’s actually good for them. That can't be further from the truth. Humans need some sort of guidance at the end of the day, sometimes the best solutions don't feel appropriate.”

You didn’t have the mind to deny it then. It made sense. Higher power decided things based on objective principle, not the subjective one. The breeze made your hair tickle your skin, and you wrapped your arms around your knees. “That’s true. Like the example of the bird you gave me. Just because it wants to fly doesn’t mean it can if it's unsafe.”

Sunday felt happy. You were getting it.

—

The memory of seeing Sunday for the first time was blurry. You vaguely recall your home destroyed, and wandering your old village aimlessly. It was due to an unspecified explosion, you never recalled the details, perhaps from how traumatic they were. A group of missionaries descended upon the land, bringing news of a new day. And as everyone was gathering and helping others, one man's eyes were specifically on you. His hair was dark and long as night, and he approached your curled up form.

An unknowing thing you were, he knew. And so he personally took care of you, wiping your tears. “This is a new chance,” he said. “This soil long lost its aeration. Only from fresh earth can life spring.”

You did not know what that meant. Regardless you were happy for the help, and went with the man to a new land. And that land was far grander than what you imagined, as on this land, you saw the sun for the first time in months.

And on that land you met Sunday,

The air was warm, and he was dressed in a white shirt, donned by a sleeveless suit of sorts. The outfit was comforting and pleasant to look at, not flashy, and not taking your attention away from his halo. From his wings. He looked like the saints you’ve seen on the walls of your old house. Saints you didn’t remember anymore. Your mouth was slightly agape, and you only regained your composure when you heard Gopher Wood speak.

”I have hefty responsibilities, child. I trust I can leave this lamb for your guidance?”

His hand was on your shoulder as he made you take a step towards Sunday. The other nodded, and smiled pleasantly. Gopher gave a nod as well, and was on his way soon after.

Like that you two were alone. “My name is Sunday.” He said.

You nodded slowly, and then looked around. Everything seemed fuller. Not like your old home, no, here nature had vibrant shades. You were pleased with the grass as you looked down, it was so rich. Your admiration of life was interrupted by the sound of Sunday clearing his throat. “And yours..?”

In the moment you looked back at him. “Mine..? What?”

”Name, your name.”

Despite the moment of embarrassment you answered, and he didn’t seem to be annoyed, or even bothered. He took your hand, and walked with you, tugging you along. “Well, then let's go somewhere we can sit, this is new to you, and I think we should talk about things.” Things like where you were from, and why. And what it meant to be in the family. He moved with you until you noticed a table near a comfy looking house. The details evaded you. It was merely a table with chairs, yet no significance. No. The true significance laid in the topics. In Sunday.

—

The plan was perfect. Well, not really, but you had no choice. You never dared to say that the family was wrong; you were grateful. But it wasn’t for you. To tell that to Him meant to break His heart, so you chose silence. iIt was better than direct confrontation at least.

Being there this long you had an idea of patrol routes and exits. So it wasn’t really difficult for you to navigate properly, avoiding watchful eyes. You picked nighttime, as it was easier to hide. Easier to ignore your guilt.

You didn’t blame yourself though, you just didn’t see the life of the family fit your needs anymore. Once upon the time maybe, but now? You yearned the outside and you yearned knowledge. You didn’t want to be married and have to fulfill the same tasks every time. Sunday did warn you that wisdom shouldn’t be taken from everyone, you just weren’t listening. You chose to believe there must’ve been more to this life.

Sneaking out of your room wasn’t hard when you knew the usual route the caretakers took while supervising. That, and perhaps the encouragement of the crow outside your window. Was it encouragement? Maybe you just chose to believe that.

You were one of the trustworthy members, and so you avoided being checked on by anyone. After that it was smooth sailing, heading into the north wing of the place to hopefully wait there. The plan was simple; get to the exit. And run.

Well, that's the simplified version. In reality it took nearly an hour to be halfway there, having to hide and wait for minutes sometimes until the hallway wasn’t patrolled anymore. But it was paying off, a strange fulfilment filled your senses. It was dark, which was to be expected. You navigated by holding your gloved hand to the wall, the texture of the wallpaper on it already similar. Despite not seeing it well, you remembered the muted shade of blue that the wall had. You memorised the outlay of the windows by then as well, watching the moonlight seep into the hallways and the corridors. It was saddening in a sense, this place was like home. Even now as you walked, your shoes clinking softly and almost inaudibly against the stone tiles, it felt familiar.

The thought made you stop. Were you truly to abandon this place? Did you not feel shame? Perhaps if your righteousness would’ve been greater, these second thoughts would’ve stopped you. Clearly you weren’t raised well. And so you moved on, vaguely aware of your breathing, before hearing footsteps. You were quite far already but that didn’t mean you weren’t at risk. More so with how little space you had to hide as of current, leaving you to slowly back away into the hallway. You didn’t watch where you went, only to get away from the sound. As such you ended up hiding around the corner, pressing closer to the barely visible wall. Your face was pressed against the wall, back flat to it. You slowly moved, until you felt something sharp at your hip. And then a shove, and the sound of shattering. You snapped your head to the noise.

You just knocked off a vase. A stupid vase, one whose corpse you saw thanks to the light from outside. The footsteps halted.

Realising that there was no time you took off in a run, your feet trying their best to carry you silently. It wasn’t enough, whoever went up to that vase wasn’t alone. You only heard the voice, not the actual conversation. And you went for it, the fear of being caught spiking you to abandon your former carefulness.

If someone knew that anyone was sneaking around, they’d go after them. And so running was your only choice. That didn’t help in the grand scheme of things. You’ve miscalculated. You didn’t pay attention.

Running and the panic earned you nothing, and you went with haste, doing your best to not be seen. Despite the initial threat gone, your own hysteria made sure you knew it was over. You ran to the end of the corridor, just to see a patroller turn into your direction.

”wh- get back here!”

You didn’t freeze thankfully, you turned around to break into the sprint - feeling weak regardless.

In reality you felt sickened. You didn’t plan to cut your plan short. And yet the persistent feeling of guilt clawed at your chest and stomach. How wrong was this to run like a coward? You didn’t stop.

One last turn and you could get out of a window safely. One last turn and-

Your head hit the floor before you knew what was happening, everything around you blurring and spinning from the impact you just withstood. You watched yourself on the floor, head tipping to see the person you just bumped into.

A guard. One not pleased at all, yet shocked nonetheless. It was unthinkable that you, of all people, would be causing ruckus. You shouldn’t be wandering the halls this late, and the guard knew. No defence left your tightened lips as you were grabbed roughly by the arm, and then yanked upwards.

It didn’t help that your head hurt from the impact with the tiled floor, and you were vaguely aware of your footing as you were dragged along. Whatever they were talking about to themselves fell on deaf ears as they approached the caretakers that found you moments ago. “What were you doing wandering the halls?”

“Wandering? Clearly this was an escape attempt.”

”It’s.. it’s not possible. There must be a reason”

Ashamed, you gave no answer. No answer would be appropriate for this crime. And you knew what happened to ones refusing Order. You knew that-

Everything silenced, spare for the sound of particular footsteps. Slow. Unrushed and measured. The two gathered caretakers and the guard seemed to stop their banter, and the air felt heavy. Your gaze followed theirs, and there you saw him.

Illuminated by moonlight like a saint was Sunday.

Wasn’t he supposed to be out for business? He shouldn’t be here. Why was he-

His hand was behind his back, and all he offered was a polite smile. “Thank you for your hard work today. I shall take it from here”

The guard looked at the other two, mouth opening to say something. Maybe protest, or maybe sing Sunday praises. You’ve seen both these cases already. “I said, I’ll take it from here” Yet he only loosened your grip on your arm, before pushing you to Sunday by your shoulder. All of the sudden your mouth felt dry and your throat tight, and then you saw the others bow and leave. They looked back on occasion before they were gone from the horizon.

Only then did you face the halovian again, the pleasant smile replaced by an utterly displeased and bone chilling expression of sternness. It fit the moonlight. It was cold.

Your wrist was grabbed within an instant, and he pulled you towards himself, leaning over to face you well. “You’re going with me.”

Sunday knew better than to make a fuss about this here. No, walls had ears. And certain birds knew how to speak. Before you could think to say anything you were pulled along by Sunday, further and further away from the exit. As the distance grew your feeling of sickness heightened, anxiety so big you felt you’d throw up.

You could tell he was pissed off. Well, that was certainly an understatement. Sunday was fuming, his hand tight on your wrist to the point you winced, and the walk through the darkness was silent, spare for the sound of footsteps. Occasionally you’d walk by patrolling caretakers, who looked to you and then away, sometimes lowering their heads. Was this from respect to Sunday, or the disappointment?

Maybe your mind needed to think about anything but the current situation. Maybe that’s why you chose to escape mentally even when the office doors were closer and closer. And each step you took heightened your sense of impending doom.

The doors opened with a click, and he pushed you by the small of your back inside, stepping after you. And then the doors shut. Time stopped for a moment. Nothing but the sound of the clock was audible, until he finally spoke up. You realised only then your wrist was released.

”Sit”

No words came out of you again as his hand found your shoulder. The desk held no significance, neither did the chair you were shoved onto. Through this short contact you felt his fingers shake. But only momentarily. Well, the only significance was within the situation.

Sunday didn’t sit. Whenever he had a lot on his mind he would pace about, and he opted for walking near the window. He inhaled deeply. How to even begin this conversation?

”A bird told me of your heinous acts.” He started. “But it would seem that even my rush to come here wasn’t enough”

Sunday planned to come in today to surprise you. Despite all he cared about you, really. If not, he wouldn’t have put in all this effort to keep you here, safe and sheltered. He would come in today and spend time with you. It was all to learn from the dreammaster that a certain person was doing things that shouldn’t be done.

Sunday ignored the warnings before. And look where it brought him, the situation worsened without his supervision.

You shifted in your seat, unable to face him. Your gloved hands curled in your lap as you gripped at your dress, knuckles turning white from the tension in your fingers. The halovian kept his gaze far. It didn’t escape him that you remained silent. Your anxiety usually would have you spilling out by now, tearing yourself apart for any positive look from him. For any reassurance.

Sunday closed his eyes with a sigh, hands behind his back. The curtains of his office were pulled open, allowing him to really see the outside.

“Nothing? You’ve got nothing to say to me?”

At being addressed directly you could do nothing but try to optically shrink yourself, curling in your seat. How would you even begin to explain yourself? Every single part of you, every single cell in your body emanated guilt. As though your own body was ashamed you’d think to leave.

One thing Sunday didn’t like was being ignored. His head turned to you, and he stepped over - directly in front of you - before snapping his fingers. “Zero? I would’ve expected admittance at least” it would seem to get you to talk, he’d need to bring out the heavy guns.

The halovian sighed heavily, a signification of how heavy his heart must’ve felt due to this situation. “You’ve disappointed me. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong for this to happen.” His gaze was everted to the wall, looking at the portraits on the wall.

“I’ve had grand plans for you.”

Perhaps the reaction was trained and habitual, but it didn’t feel any less natural. Your shoulders tensed, and your eyes began to burn. Sunday didn’t need any power of harmony on you, he needed to say the right things.

It never failed him, not this time either.

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to-“ Sunday clicked his tongue. He wasn’t about to sit and listen to excuses. “But you were. Deliberately so.”

You refused his gaze once you felt it again, his hand under your chin. “Look at me when I am speaking to you.” Look at him. Always.

Your chest felt constricted when you met his golden eyes, his wings neatly folded, not spread out. “You planned it and then attempted to execute it. There’s no denying that.” Still, it was too much. You ended up moving your face away, looking to the exit longingly. You couldn’t face the guilt.

Halovian considered the situation at hand. Deliberately you were forgetting your place, but he needed to change his approach. So he crossed his arms, voice softer, temporarily losing its edge. “Let’s just.. talk about this, yes?”

Sunday leaned against the belobogian desk, head tipping. You looked pitiful and weak. Most importantly, naive. “I understand you must’ve had a reason to make this decision. One.. you deemed a good one. Tell me then, what was it?”

By then you should’ve known you were still in trouble. Regardless you were slightly comforted by his softened manner of speech. You still didn’t face him. But where to begin?

”I.. it was lingering on my mind for.. for a while- I believe that this is the decision that’s right for me.”

Sunday said nothing. He allowed you to continue, looking at the clock, and then pushing himself off the desk to approach a bookshelf.

Staring at your lap, you scratched at the skin underneath your glove. You were grateful, had Sunday not come, more people would know of your transgression. Or attempted transgression, a term more fitting. If they knew, they’d demand justice.

”I’ve.. I’ve noticed that the things I want don’t align with the.. uhm, ideas that the family strives for anymore.” You looked back to Sunday. His back was to you, and he was looking through the already familiar book. As you spoke you found a new confidence in your words. He was listening. He must’ve been. “I’m grateful. I am, but I can’t- live like this. It’s not for me, I can’t stay here.”

Sunday held the book open as he approached the desk once more, but he hummed, allowing you to continue. He wasn’t interrupting, that would be impolite. “I believe there are things I want in life that I won’t find here. I don’t hate you, I just..”

Of course there was no grand need to clarify. But you were anxious yourself. You didn’t wish to leave others in anxiety of unspoken things.

”You just?”

“I just don’t want to follow the codex of the family anymore. There’s more ahead for me.”

Sunday looked at your face. And so you looked away. You were sure he was hearing you out. He was listening, maybe he would understand. Maybe- “Is it a claim that order is unfit for individuals better than the rest of man?”

Your mouth went dry. Before you thought to defend your point he held his hand up, signifying his turn to speak. The open book was laid on the desk. Sunday took a step to you, unrushed. He had time, after all.

”What would give you such dystopian ideas? The books that you were reading when you thought no one was watching?” He asked. “Your selfishness asking you to stand out? Admirable. Do you believe yourself to know better? To be better than me?”

The verbal attack didn’t cut it. Your lips trembled as you tried to find a way to defend your point. You never thought yourself to be better, to know better. Yet that’s what Sunday seemed to think. If you explained your point enough he’d understand. He was your friend. He was-

His hand was at the arm of the chair, a tight and unrelenting grip. “You’re foolish. Absolutely and utterly naive. Order is for everyone, it’s not to appease you.” He wouldn’t let you speak. You couldn’t find any gap to think and word your ideas, no. “Rules are set by higher power. Do you not remember?”

Suddenly the chair let out a pleading screech as Sunday shoved it closer to the desk, forcing you to face the opened book. The poem. The ‘iron hand’. Your gloves felt tight on your hands.

”Read it out for me.” You knew how to read now. With your hands shaking you gripped the desk, leaning over. Your hair moved down when you stared at the page, and you looked at where he was pointing.

”A- a chain of law, a sculptor's chisel- to shape the wild, to cool the sizzle-“

”go on. Next lines.”

”Freedom’s song, though sweet, distorts-“ You were trying not to cry. Each letter read had your voice trembling from your throat tightening. “Breeding discord in courts and ports”

The book was shut in front of you right when you were done, and you were left staring down at the empty spot on the desk. “Did you learn anything from it?” The question was strange. Why would he ask that?

“It’s a poem, some- some poems just exist to let.. to let an author's voice out it’s not- it‘s not a rule of reality.”

Such big words for a lowly lamb. Sunday raised his brow, his voice carrying a tune of mockery. “Really? Why then believe all the other things you’ve read? You do not understand the true meaning behind the things you see. As a human you take things at face value, yet this poem is symbolic?” He scoffed.

He was expecting an apology. Or a statement of how wrong you were. Maybe then he’d let you off the hook. When he was young he too had moments of defiance, but thankfully there was always someone to get him back on track.

”That’s not- this is not what I meant.”

”Then, pray tell, whatever did you mean?”

Maybe this was your chance. He would understand, he would-

“I don’t want to live like this, Sunday!” Then again your infuriation reached its limit. You gripped the arms of the chair. Your tone did have Sunday vaguely surprised, an unreadable expression on his face as his mouth was agape. “I don’t want to have to marry, and then have kids. And then continue in monotony, and then do it all over again-“ you began. “This isn’t for me. There’s more to life than doing things on constant repeat like a music box whenever it’s opened.” your heart knocked against your chest in anticipation. Was this anxiety or excitement?

You should shut up. He frowned, only slightly, you did not relent yet. “There’s more to be seen and explored. There’s more to be learned and experienced. Like- like this desk. Humans need experiences to know life, they need to be shaped by their struggles, they need-“

You took a deep breath in. “They don’t need monotony. They need decisions.”

Maybe you should’ve silenced yourself before. His gaze was averted in mockery of contemplation, and then he looked at you directly. He was pissed. “No, humans don’t see things. We already talked about this, humans need someone to rule them and set their lives. They only see by the prism of their desire, they-“

The world was spinning. You weren’t sure if it was from anxiety or adrenaline. “Humans aren’t made to live like this! We- we aren’t cattle.”

Sunday regarded you for a moment. As though he took your words to be spoken lightly. As though he didn’t value your opinion as much as he should’ve.

Who would blame him though? You were just one person.

”Humans aren’t made.” Before anything else was said, his hand gripped your cheeks. Sheer strength of it had you wincing, and your lips puffed out due to the way he held your face. Sunday leaned in, eyes narrowed, and voice laced with poison.

“They are born. Born to be ruled, to be guided. They are born to obey.” The emphasis didn’t slip you.

Sunday didn’t like defiance. He didn’t like disobedience. Especially not when it was from you. “And like a human you are, that’s what you’ll be doing. You don’t know what’s good for you with me here. If my life relied on your freedom, I would never. let. you. go.”

He let go of your face, the harshness of the movement making your vision move sideways, face turned. ”Is one blind same as one that sees?” The question didn’t need answering. You were doomed.

“Is a dog aware of the poison that’s being hand fed to it?” He moved, stepping somewhere behind the chair. You didn’t dare to turn around, however, the tears pooling in your eyes were blurring whatever was in front of you. “Does a child know that a stranger may be a kidnapper, then?”

Your voice shook, and you felt his hand on your head, giving you the smallest strokes. “N-No-“

Halovian’s fingers tangled between the loose strands. “No. Is the sinner the same as the saint?” He asked again, hand running down before his fingers brushed out your hair again. “No, then why-“ his hand was tight in your hair, giving it a harsh tug back, forcing you to look at the ceiling. Not exactly. Sunday was leaned over you, his face unreadable. “-do you believe you have any clearance? You’re naive at best. To leave you to your own devices has been a foolish mistake” his voice carried an edge to it. A silent warning, a boundary that’s been crossed. “One I’m not gonna make again.”

Your cheeks burned. You really did it this time. You never saw Sunday this angered - his fingers left your hair, a dull feeling left over in your scalp. “Get up” he’d teach you your lesson, then figure out how to appease the masses.

Maybe he’d simply claim insanity. Maybe. Or perhaps he could work this into his plan, tell them your fear of marriage and greater tasks made you behave with no thinking. A fear of marriage to Sunday - which would be an actually believable reason.

Halovian was fine keeping his distance, even if you consumed his daily thoughts. He was willing to stay away if that meant you’d be safe, even if he couldn’t have you.

Well, that changes today.

He vaguely saw your struggle to keep calm, so he tugged you on your feet by your shoulder, pushing you in front of him. “You want a reason to leave this place? Let’s give you one.”

There was no time to speak, as he guided you out of the office, right into the hallway. It was still dark out there, and you stood cowardly as he fished his pockets for keys. Soon after you felt his hand wrap around your arm, and you were dragged along regardless of compliance or defiance. It seemed Sunday already knew where to go, and you too knew where he was going, judging by the direction. “Usually you’d try and gravel out of the situation” He commented, albeit unkindly. “It seems there are things that you’ve forgotten, such as your place in the hierarchy”

Through the darkened hallways you could still hear the jingling of his keys as he looked for the appropriate one, the sound of it sliding into the lock nothing but smooth. That’s right, you were going to his room. But why? The lock gave way with a click, and he made you walk in first.

As expected the room was darkened, Sunday stepping in shortly after you. He turned the light on absentmindedly, the room as dull as always. The halovian has told you once that vibrancy of colour takes clarity of the mind away.

You looked back to Sunday for a moment. He watched you too, his hand turning the lock beneath the doorknob with no issue. And so here you were with him, alone.

“And you.” He began, the keys left discarded on a cabinet near the wall. “How are you better than any other human?” The emphasis on your inferiority was not something you missed. Yet your throat felt too tight to form anything coherent. He always said it this way, whenever he asked you things you couldn’t hope to comprehend. Whenever he compared you in ways you did not fathom. It was always a sheet to cover the inferiority of yours he was conveying. You are just one human, after all.

Your eyes lingered as his form seemed to become bigger the closer he got, and the space around you felt as though it was tighter and tighter. It was only natural to mend for the lost personal space by taking steps back, your breathing got uneven, almost manual.

“If you don’t understand, do not be afraid” Sunday’s hand touched your cheek, the action far too tender as his not gloved fingers moved down across your skin. Your face, chin, then your neck. And his hand moved slowly, placing itself onto your chest soon enough, flat, near your covered cleavage. Maybe you didn’t want to admit it was there in the first place. A breath was stuck in your throat as you held it.

“I don’t expect anything from you anyway”

The push was light, yet you stumbled back nonetheless, the cushions and feathery covers not breaking your fall. It brought no relief.

The family’s heir stood great above you, looking at you with compassion, akin to seeing a wounded animal. Eyes half lidded, he looked at you with interest you did not understand before. Regardless, the puzzle piece was found, filling in the details you have once missed. You now understood everything.

“You- you can’t.”

His expression didn’t change, spare for the almost unnoticeable tipping of his head. “I can. You are my wife.” Sunday spoke as though this was a proven fact, an objective truth. He spoke with the conviction he always spoke with.

“There is- there’s no ceremony, h-how-“ your voice trembled. The anxiety never left you. “How can we marry?”

“I do not need to lower myself to these human concepts like your flock does” Sunday lowered himself to his knees, and from your sitting, you saw his hand take yours, it firmly secured in his grip.

He stroked the gloves of your hands, moving to the pinky, and then your thumb. The halovian pulled at the tips of the fingers until the glove slipped off, the material of his own against your now naked hand felt disgusting. Sacrilegious.

His gaze met yours, golden eyes making direct contact. It felt like his gaze became more intense, your naked hand pulled to his face. And then he kissed it, the softness of his lips akin to feeling an unknown before exotic soft food.

“I.. I cannot be your wife. It- it’s not right for me to be next to you.” Was this spoken from conviction, or from the discomfort of the situation? This didn’t make you forget your principles. This didn’t change your mind.

”Everything I do is right. Have you forgotten?” His lips felt like they reached far beneath your skin, right to the centre of your being. It was like an invasion, not that it was real. It was merely your perception.

”I don’t… mean to say you are wrong-“

”You cannot tell what is right or wrong, I will not hold it against you.” His voice felt that of reason, and it only served to make you feel idiotic for even daring to talk back. “Let me lead you back again to the path you had strived on.”

—

Jade smirked. The glass she held was almost untouched, her hair free under her hat. She sat like a proper lady, watching Sunday pace about. “I proved my point, didn’t I, mr. Oak?”

It was gripping at low hanging fruit, but snakes were known for lying in wait. She didn’t need to reach high to make sure she was heard. And the low hanging fruit was you. Because all it took for you to ‘rot’, as Sunday would say, was a single worm. And the worm was her vicious tongue giving you strange ideas. She was a devil incarnate.

Halovian spared her but a glance, his jaw tight. To think she messed in the affairs of his, right underneath his nose. It was unthinkable, what sort of a leader was he if he was oblivious to it? Did he deserve his royalties?

”Unjust game is your favourite, it would seem.”

”I did prove my point, no?” She chuckled. “You can’t have everything under control. Not her, not penacony. Precisely why I suggest going with the fore mentioned truce”

Sunday was aware that the IPC would not be able to keep its claws off penacony. And danger to penacony was danger to ’the family’, even if no one knew what happened behind said name. This was but a direct threat, if that wasn’t clear before.

He finally stopped walking, abruptly so. Jade continued on.

”If a catastrophe befalls, would you hope they choose safety, or their home?”

But she didn’t wait. She set the glass down, and headed for the doors. She gave Sunday a single glance back, and left.

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters as yanderes :p

Yaaaa here we go . Had to make these hcs eventually

Warnings?: usual yanderish stuff but there’s implied grooming and abuse of power on Jessica’s part (also grooming with Miguel low key)

Gwen is rather protective, thinking you cannot possibly care for yourself. She is constantly at your side as a means to keep you safe. Taking on the role as your personal body guard, rather than as your girlfriend. Of course, she tries to find time to be your girlfriend as well but most of the time it just feels as though she’s more caught up in keeping you safe rather than tending to the other needs you have. As a result, your relationship will fail and you will have to eventually break things off with her. Surprisingly this is something she accepts, but no matter how much you want her out of your life she doesn’t leave. Appointing herself as your protector. As your girlfriend, she found it quite easy to protect you as she was always around you. She was so protective to the point she didn’t trust any of your friends and tried to isolate you from them, even your family and even her own friends and family too. Even small things like cutting bread she doesn’t trust you with, afraid you may cut yourself. She may lie to you about your family and friends, to keep you away from them. In her mind she will do anything to protect you even if that means deceiving you. When you separate, things don’t change. It’s like she never left and no matter what you do, she doesn’t leave. Even if you think she’s left you alone, her alter ego is stalking you, keeping you from harm.

Miles is rather guilt trippy. Or at least that’s how it starts. He would kinda make you feel bad for not possibly retiring his feelings, resulting in you giving him a chance. You give him an inch and he goes a mile. He takes this opportunity, and officially declared you his partner after you give him one date. This relationship being sprung upon you even if it’s something you do not desire. Even if you voice this concern, or how you aren’t ready for a relationship or how you barely know him or … how you’re not sure you like him. Whatever excuse you try to muster does not matter to him, because now you’re as good as his. It’s not like he’s even aware of how manipulative this is, because in his mind he wasn’t even guilt tripping you, simply being honest. In his mind he’s not taking things entirely too fast or breaking boundaries, you’re being embarrassed and playing hard to get. He is in a state of delusion, and nothing you say can ever change his mind. You love him, as much as he loves you. And he knows it too. Miles acts like you’re a happy and super in love couple constantly, and because of how in love and happy miles seems, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect a thing. Especially when miles guilt tripped you again right before your meeting with some of the most important people in Miles’s life. It’s how he’s managed to make things seem normal between you two for so long.

Pavitr is delusional, truly. I believe his delusion would only begin upon you two dating though. While confident in himself, in the past was unsure if you liked him. However now that you’re a couple he feels incredibly secure in your relationship, maybe a little too secure. Because even if you break things off with him, tell him you don’t love him like that, or anymore, he assumes you’re playing hard to get or having a bad day. He doesn’t think you’re being serious, or mean what you say. However, Pavitr is an outstanding boyfriend. A little clingy, sure. Maybe more than a little, maybe it’s even overwhelming but he’s so sweet. So many gifts, even when you tell him it’s okay, he doesn’t have to, he insists. A concerning amount but… nothing to break up with him over!! He’s being kind, this is just what boyfriends do. Even if he’s constantly hovering over you and clinging to your side and never leaving you be, except for when you have to use the bathroom, even still. He’s just a loving boyfriend. It’s unlikely you’ll want to break up with him because despite how overwhelming it is he’s so sweet and seems to genuinely just love you, but if you did it just never happens. He never takes you seriously. Suppose that’s the most difficult about your relationship. He never takes any seriously in your relationship. Your concerns are his, he says. But you don’t think he means it, when he shows absolutely no worry or concern for you. He’s Spider-Man, he can always save you. Perhaps he puts too much faith in himself, perhaps he does this because he’s convinced there’s no love quite like the love you two share. Perhaps he’s simply delusional to think there’s no way you’d get hurt upon being with him.

Hobie is rather blunt about things, it’s who he is in nature. It’s how most spider people are, anyway. He’s not a liar, at least in his eyes. And truly before he met you, he wasn’t. And in a strange way, he still isn’t. He speaks truth, he’s just overly dramatic about it. Your situation might be bad, but he might just make it out to be much worse than it actually is. Perhaps your in danger, perhaps there’s certain people you cannot trust. Hobie makes it seem as though you can’t trust anyone, aside from him of course. And man extra points for him if you already have trust issues, this makes his job even easier. He knows he’s kinda tricking you, deceiving you in a roundabout way. But he also kinda believes it. He believes wholeheartedly there’s nobody to trust, that he’s the only one that can keep you safe. That he’s the only one that truly cares for you and truly loves you and would truly do anything for you. He just needs you to believe it too, he just has to tie a few webs together in order for that to happen. There’s a possessiveness that comes with being with him normally, but as a yandere this is increased tenfold. Combine that with the extreme distrust he has with everyone, and it’s over. It’s in his nature to look out for others, like Gwen, like miles, like pav, but that doesn’t mean they’re gonna look out for you too. He keeps that in mind, always.

Peter B is a little out of his realm here. He hasn’t experienced proper romance since MJ but there’s truly something about you, something that reminds him of his childhood, something that reminds him of home. He clings onto this feeling like a lifeline. But it’s because he’s so obsessed with keeping the feeling you give him, he keeps you around him constantly. Even in spider society, which others may not like as you are not… a spider. (That is, if you aren’t idk who you are brother). He’s obsessed with keeping you around at all times, and his daughter too. This obsession with keeping you around at all times can cause a rift in your relationship. You’d lose your mind being around the same person 24/7, without friends, family? But Peter never indulged in your one sided arguments, he lets you let out your anger and even leaves you alone (which is so hard for him, but even he knows you need a moment to yourself) until you’ve cooled down and you’re ready for him to smother you again with his cuddles and sweet lovin. Because he’s most definitely going to isolate you from your family and friends. Try to make you feel like nobody else makes you as happy as him, so just forget about them for right now. You’ll see them later. But then you never do, you never see them. Why would you? When Peter is right here. All you’ve ever done was get mad at Peter, and for what? Saving the world? Protecting everyone? Protecting you? For loving you? For giving you a daughter? Sure, there’s some questions you have. Like where he even got this kid from, she looks like mj in fact. You know he’d never cheat, but you don’t know if he wouldn’t steal a baby from another dimension.

Jessica is a planner, she sees you and immediately is smitten. She knows, you two are meant for one another. For once, she does not care about the consequences of having you. But she will plan in advance, and make sure there are none. Her attraction towards you is obvious, not that she bothers to hide it. Fleeting touches and constant flirting, but she claims she’s simply being honest with you. Even if you’re uninterested or even uncomfortable she seems insistent. And because of her position, she’s able to get away with it. Who are you to not be interested? She’s far above you, far out of your league. Take a chance, don’t be afraid to love her! She can not only provide love for you but she can provide so much more. Money, food, safety. She provides all the things needed ten fold and she’s not even overly clingy or anything! She asks for nothing in return, you should be more grateful. It should be a blessing, to be with her. She absolutely does not get overly jealous and possessive and no she does not twist your words. She won’t listen to you, she constantly starts arguments due to her jealousy. It’s your fault for making her think you’re cheating on her, you spend so much time away from her. Did you even want this relationship? Why, of course you did! Why wouldn’t you, hun?

Miguel suffered so much, lost so much. You have to understand why he’s so protective. It is genuinely a miracle to him you are still around, that he is able to find happiness with you and it not be taken away from him in an instant. He can’t remember the last time he felt so happy, even with his family. He’s never white felt this, this love, this passion, this absolute devotion and trust. He’s not willing to let it out of his sights. He’s too caught up in how happy you make him for him to even consider how you may feel. How you might feel useless because he’s so hell bent on doing every little task for you and protecting you with every ounce of him. How you feel about him planning this all along, since the day he saw you. That he was going to make you his and only his, no matter what. You are his prized possession, you’re truly special and have finally brought him light in this darkness. He thinks he can excuse his behavior towards you, because he loves you whole heartedly and he truly has your best interest at heart. But the thing is, he kinda doesn’t. Does he truly have your best interest at heart if he won’t even try to listen to you? He won’t let you see your friends or family back home? He reasons that your safe here, in this spider society. You’ll always be safe here. He doesn’t hear you out any further, and you can never get through to him. He doesn’t let you fight anymore, he simply expects you to sit around and wait for him to come back to you.

[fuji09]

Derek Hale isn't as... grown-up as you think.

Part 2 of my "[character] isn't as..." series.

Yes, Derek Hale is an adult. No matter if he is 19, 20, 21, 22, ect... Derek is an adult season 1.

However, just because he is in his early twenties, doesn't make him a grown ass adult (as some like to lovingly call him).

Due to trauma that started when he was 15, Derek does not know how to adult.

At 15 he has to kill the girl he loves, Paige, to end her suffering as she's dying.

Then soon after, Kate Argent manipulates, grooms, uses, abuses, sexually assaults, and rapes Derek, when he is 15/16.

Then Kate burns his home to the ground with his family inside, losing his entire world. Only Laura and Peter (known at the time) survived. Peter was severely burned and catatonic. Cora was assumed dead in the fire but we later find she survived too.

So now Laura and Derek are the only ones left, and they leave their only home to go across the country to run and hide from hunters.

Laura is the alpha with only Derek as pack and they run away and end up hiding in New York for 6 years. Just the two of them for 6 years. We aren't really shown what went on during those 6 year, did they party to forget their troubles? Did they hide themselves away from everybody and became hermits? Did they just start over and live normal human lives?

Derek is constantly running. He can't ever settle, can't have security or feel safe. Always looking over his shoulder, and this starts when he's 15/16.

Now Laura returns to Beacon Hills and leaves Derek behind. She is killed and Derek comes looking for her, all alone. Derek returns to the place where he lost it all to try to find his sister, the only family he had left.

He finds out Laura was killed and ripped in half. That there is now an alpha running wild in Beacon Hills. There's a newly bitten werewolf. There are also hunters. The Argents, who is Kate's family, mock Derek's lack of family left alive. Derek could have easily turned around and left. Go right back to New York and not deal with this mess. But he doesn't leave. He stays.

He tries to help the newly bitten werewolf to the best of his ability. This boy can't even take care of himself but he's still trying to help Scott.

Scott fights him along the way, the alpha keeps attacking, and Derek tries to keep Scott from being killed, found out, or hurt someone.

Derek has no clue what to do. He was never meant to be an alpha. The guy lives in his burnt out husk of house and then lives in an abandoned train station.

He's literally still stuck as that 15 year old kid who lost it all. Derek makes many mistakes, and I think part of it has to do with not knowing how to speak to people. He's very short with everyone, uses facial expressions more than words, and has a hard time understanding others.

He gets frustrated easily and then reacts by getting physical, like shoving Scott in the wall and threatening to kill him if Scott risks everything by playing in the Lacrosse game even though he doesn't have a handle on his shifting and there are hunters everywhere. Turns out to be an empty threat because Scott does play and Derek does not kill him.

Derek still acts like a kid, and I honestly believe what helped him start to grow and actually become an adult was Scott. Derek felt responsible for Scott even though he didn't bite him. Sometimes people become the adult they are supposed to be when they get a pet or have a baby. They get their shit together when someone is dependent on them. Derek took Scott on like a brother.

Their relationship is a lot like brothers. They fight and argue, they protect each other, and they help (begrudgingly) each other. They may threaten to kill each other, but then when someone is actually trying to hurt the other, they protect each other.

Derek starts to grow up when he's around Scott and Stiles. Stiles is kinda like the annoying best friend of his now younger brother, so now he has someone who can dish it and take, but also someone who can help him figure shit out.

Derek doesn't have his shit together, he's a hot mess. He's scared and angry. He definitely has PTSD, it makes sense how he reacts to things. He also deals with severe guilt, anxiety, depression, self harm, and he's basically suicidal.

He does know how to keep his strength in check though. We see Stiles shoved against a wall by several people, Scott, Erica, Theo, and Derek. But Derek is the only one who doesn't shove him too hard. Derek is the only one who doesn't hurt Stiles when he shoved him, and most of the movement we see from Stiles is him jumping from being startled.

He does hit Stiles' head on the steering wheel, which Stiles totally deserved, but it wasn't hard enough to leave a mark or do any damage, it was just enough of a warning to never do that again. He knows how to be more gentle with humans.

Derek is a martyr and I really do believe he's suicidal because he also doesn't care if he dies, even though he partly doesn't want to die. He has zero self worth and has no issue with dying if it helps someone. He literally has to prove his worth to Scott and Stiles that they need him so he is worth saving. He doesn't think he's worth saving unless he's useful to someone and he believes that everyone else thinks that way too.

Derek puts up this rough front to keep people away to protect himself from getting hurt again. He makes himself look unapproachable and mean. But he actually cares a lot. He hides as a defense mechanism.

He was taught pain makes you human and keeps you near your humanity and that it also speeds up the healing process so he ends up hurting several werewolves, Scott, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson. Whether it's to help them heal, teach them to hold on to their humanity, or fight even harder, he teaches these things to the other betas.

Derek is so damaged and stuck. He has trust issues. He may be wealthy, but he doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't spend it for a long time. For two seasons he's squatting, until finally season 3 he gets a loft.

Derek may be an adult, but he definitely wasn't grown up for seasons 1 and 2.

Derek gets along with the teens because he still has the teen mindset. Which causes him to not always make the best choices.

He is still is an easy target to manipulate and try to control. As we see when Peter reveals he's the alpha. In order to keep Peter away from Stiles and not get himself killed, he has to "join" Peter's side. Which by the look on his face the whole time he hates it and doesn't actually agree with Peter, but he pretends for a while. He has to stand by and watch as his uncle assaults Scott again and gives him the memories of the fire. Which side note, I think Peter did that as a jab at Scott for saying maybe the Argents has a good reason to burn the Hales. Doesn't make it right at all, but it makes sense that he would be angry about that comment.

Derek knows he's hot and he uses that to his advantage when needed, but also because he seems to think that's all he's good for when it comes to girls. He's so awkward with women in the first 2 seasons. He seems unable to actually flirt well until season 3.

He works out way more than he should, punishing his body to hurt himself. He lets himself be shot, tazed, shocked, and beaten because he feels that he deserves it. He truly thinks he's a bad person and he's not. He self sabotages at times because he gets too cocky or scared when something is actually going right.

Derek actually tries though. He keeps getting kicked while he's down. He perseveres and he fucks up. And he also learns from those mistakes and tries to be better.

You can find part 1 of my" [character] isn't as..." series here about Stiles.

Hope y'all enjoyed part 2 about Derek and I'll be back with a part 3. Can y'all guess who it will be about?

[sophieinwonderland]

Hi sophie (again) one really quick note, the reason i read through your ENTIRE blog is because my dissertation is on facetious disorders portrayed and influenced by social media and the likes of such- it is literally a 250 page document about people like you. It's literally a part of my research to read long-winded things like this and write about them. My livelihood revolves around this. I don't expect to see a Dr. before your name, but you can damn well expect to see it before mine.

The only reason I sent that ask and wrote a targeted post was to get a response from you. The only reason. Had some writers block lol, I needed some material 😅😅

Another note to add to the grooming part was not about LGBTQ or transgender people as I am both myself. Please do not take it as a jab to your gender identity, and I apologize if it came off that way. It was in no way meant to insult you in that regard.

First, thanks for clarifying about the use of grooming. I don't mean to suggest you did intend it as a remark about my gender identity.

But I do think it's important to note in a "you are not immune to propaganda" way. Because I think, consciously or unconsciously, anti-endos have adopted transphobic talking points.

I assume and hope that this is unconscious. That rather than looking at how conservatives have used these talking points to harm queer communities and going "yeah, we can use that talking point too with these people we don't like," this absorption and repetition of these talking points is happening on a subconscious level. In which case, I think it's important to understand where they've originated and what the history is behind them.

As well as what misusing these terms normalizes. Because repeating them does contribute to a culture that is okay with using "grooming" this way to associate people they don't like with child abusers.

Now, allow me to first commend you on starting work on your dissertation so early. Working on it at just 20 is quite impressive indeed.

Although I have to question the subject matter.

A factitious disorder is when somebody is faking a disorder or pretending to have a disorder. It seems strange that you would seek to use examples of people who do not actually have a disorder and are not claiming to.

Even if endogenic systems were lying, unless they're presenting themselves as having a disorder they weren't, they wouldn't qualify for criterion B.

If you do want to write about people who have plural experiences without having trauma or a disorder, you might want to actually read my studies and research page. I'm sure that you could find stuff there that could help you on your journey.

And if you plan on writing about tulpamancy, specifically, Dr. Samuel Veissiere's Variety of Tulpa Experiences is probably most useful in understanding the tulpamancy community and viewpoints on the practice.

I would also recommend Learning to Discern the Voices of Gods, Spirits, Tulpas, and the Dead, as it offers a great comparison between tulpamancy and other forms of non-pathological voice hearing.

I imagine that these studies are much more productive uses of your time than scrolling through over 11,000 Tumblr posts, and would look better as sources in your dissertation.

Finally, if you are committed to doing a dissertation on factitious disorder, I would highly advise learning how to spell factitious. Because it's not "facetious" disorders, and spelling it that way might look a bit awkward on your dissertation about factitious disorder.

[transmascutena]

while the idea of family as an environment that fosters abuse is obviously most clearly seen in anthy and akio's relationship, and the other sibling pairs to a different degree, it's a pretty big part of utena's arc as well. as an orphan and an only child, she's the only character without any family (that we know of) and that puts her in a pretty unique position. she idealizes the concept of family because the fact that she doesn't have one has caused her a lot of pain, and this idealization makes her blind to the fact that having a family is, you know, not always a good thing. her response to kozue having issues with her mother is "man i wish i had a mom" which is completely fair and understandable but also . read the room (i say this with love.)

anyway the point is that utena's idea of family as the ideal (or only) place to get that sense of stability and comfort and companionship that she's always longed for, is the exact thing akio uses to groom her. he positions himself as a brother figure, by being anthy's brother and comparing her and utena to siblings, by calling her "part of the family" multiple times, and by being someone utena is comfortable going to for help and advice. she might even see him as a father figure if the conversation with anthy in episode 26 is any indication. and because of the expectations of what family should be to you, it means she begins to trust him unconditionally. family always wants the best for you, right? if you feel hurt or betrayed by them, surely it's your own fault or you're just overreacting, right? akio gives her a mix of familial and romantic/sexual attention, and because utena trusts him and also doesn't have a reference point for what familial relationships are supposed to be, she really has no choice but to assume that it's.. maybe not normal, but she at least feels she doesn't have a right to question it (this is part of why it takes her a long time to recognize anthy's situation.) because while akio has told her to consider herself family, it's pretty clear that he's intentionally keeping her with the feeling that she's an outsider still. and she wants to be a part of their family so badly that she's ignoring all the things that are making her uncomfortable. because a family is what you're supposed to have. it's what's supposed to make you happy. and this idea keeps you trapped in it, even while it's actively making you miserable.

[eggmode]

i keep seeing takes that are like "mike didnt do anything about the abuse everyone faced in the circus because he personally wasn't abused" which. just could not be more wrong

this information isn't displayed in the event story, so i can't blame people entirely for thinking this way. but as a hullabaloo/game 8/mike morton fan of several years, let's remember this:

1. mike was the reason that murro was able to escape the circus. mike actively helped murro, his brother, leave when murro asked for help.

2. mike's bombs were actively dangerous. one of his deductions is about bernard saying filling his juggling sacks with rocks was "too hazardous." but mike did that anyway, and made BOMBS out of ACID THAT LEAVES PERMANENT BURNS (r.i.p. joker's face) to juggle. and he did this specifically to get bernard's approval and attention. if a child feels as though the only way to get impress their parent is by Actively Endangering Themself for the sake of Cool Performance Tricks... there's something deeper going on.

3. mike, unlike everyone else in the circus, was raised at the hullabaloo since childhood. we have no record of mike's parents, one of mike's deductions is a photo of "a man with a mustache carrying a young blonde boy," which we can assume is baby mike and bernard. mike knows nothing except the circus-- he has no parents or other guardians to remember. the hullabaloo is all he had. of course he doesn't realize that the abuse his friends, his family is facing isnt normal, if he knew it was happening at all!

4. this one is a little more speculation than anything else, but it's still important to note. one of mikes deductions is a diary entry about how he touched bernard's skin with his cold hands, and bernard called him "dear mr mike morton." mike notes that he would give anything to hear bernard say that again, and that next time, mike will slip his cold hands down Bernard's collar. which...

mike is clearly lacking in a comprehension of physical boundaries one should have with their guardian here. not only is it sad that the only way to get affection out of bernard is to push those boundaries, but this implies grooming behavior on bernard's part. and, more unfortunately, it implies mike may have been sexually abused by bernard. maybe im looking too deep into it, but genuinely there is No 100% Completely Normal explanation for this deduction anyhow.

so. yeah, mike didn't hate it at the hullabaloo like everyone else. but its not his fault he didn't realize the abuse, because the abuse is all he's ever known. he's the most unreliable narrator to ever unreliably narrate, among the game eight members.

that's the tragedy of mike morton. he thought his only home was great and fine, but his world was shattered when he realized that it wasn't normal. the abuse wasn't normal. the only family he'd ever had was actively suffering even before the tragedy of the massacre.

mike's facade makes u think he's well adjusted, that nothing bad ever happened to him. but u gotta look closer to see it. just like how the hullbaloo looked alright from the outside, but behind closed doors it wasn't. and lets not forget that mike's hunter persona is Hullabaloo. he IS the circus!!

in conclusion. please do not misunderstand my boy he is just an unreliable narrator in a game where unreliable narrators (orpheus, alice) put themselves in the shoes of unreliable narrators (everyone else) to figure out their stories (which are unreliably narrated because netease is. netease)

[peculiaritty]

Sunday character study/trauma study

Again! before i start this ramble there is tw for religious themes, abuse, mental illnesses (ocd especially) and grooming so please if you have any triggers regarding those please don't read ^^ 2.2 Penacony spoilers so please be warned and future leaks and/or theorys may be involved. NO future storyline leaks though. This might be split into parts- not sure! Things might be hyperlinked and these will count as my reference/evidence, theres no need to read them unless you're curious!! There might be a part two on this when Sunday does come out ! Edited 18/05 to correct mistakes/add things i forgot about it OK. Lets begin: GOD. Poor Sunday, i think a lot of people has seen Sunday's abuse unnoticed, and i honestly can't blame some people because sometimes we don't automatically pick up everything unless we are actively looking for something. Sunday is a very interesting character, and i don't necessarily think he is 'evil-evil' per say, he is more of a morally grey character rather than being right up evil. Some major pointers i want to bring up and will be discussed: -> neglect, emotional abuse and the grooming of Sunday by Gopher Wood AKA dreammaster. -> The 'family' dynamics and attitudes -> Sunday/robins ideologies -> headcanons, character design choices and religious imagery (Not a deepdive into the imagery!)

-> neglect, emotional abuse and the grooming of Sunday by Gopher Wood AKA Dreammaster.

The most clear thing we can see as of right now without any reading between lines- Robin and Sundays bond. They care for eachother very much, we know that Sunday is the eldest brother, we already know that from right off the bat, that he is indeed the protector of Robin. Such as any older sibling usually feels towards those born after them. Sunday in no doubt in my mind has firstborn syndrome, basically the main 'burden-holder' between the two. This is the first fact we need to understand before we delve in. Due to Sundays natural-protectiveness of his sister that leaves Sunday at the face/brunt of Gophers ideals, which means sacrificing himself at any cost. Which may be why Robin remains currently unaffected or/not as self-destructive as Sunday. One thing that is easily skipped over and not noticed, Gopher and Sunday share a completely transactional-non-familial bond as they seem to not have the common father-son bond what so ever, Sunday only refers to Gopher as master which hints at the wedge between them. Gopher has ever only inspired and encouraged Sundays pessimistic behavior, such as when the Charmony Dove fell, we can assume that both Sunday and robin are extremely young at the time, i position them to be around 6-8, while at this age children do start to grasp that death in permanent, in no way should a child i quote be saying anything along the lines of "i think people believe birds are meant to fly...because they've never seen those birds crashing to their death." while this 'kind voice' (Gopher) does seem unbiased and passive, there is no reason unless you have actively convinced and taught a child to think that way. While children do come to gain their own beliefs, and ideals, siblings usually remain with the same ideas and beliefs until they reach around 10-12 where puberty starts. The belief gap at such a young age between Robin and Sunday is too big for it to be just "growing up" most if not all children take joy in being naïve- and cheerful. it is only when we come to abused, groomed, depressed and neglected children we start to see such pessimistic behavior. Sunday does have first-born child syndrome, it is also a bit of a worry of how stoic and 'unfeeling' he is. He doesn't confine in anyone, and while yes, we could say this is normal- but in normal, healthy environments people always have someone to confine in. Sunday doesn't have that. This could purely be just his personality- as some people are simply coded that way. It just strikes differently when we compare Child Sunday unto his adult self, as seen in Robins trailer BOTH of them had artistic aspirations, and even though there is no 'heavy' implication, that one tear indicates to me that Sunday was indeed the more emotional one. Growing out of hobbies is normal, but Sunday is lacking of life, he generally looks lifeless. He could've grown out of them, but what I read between the lines is extreme shaming and guilt. The need to be 'perfect'. Just so he could be the 'sun' in the sky and maybe even please Gopher.

Another thing to point out- his OCD yes. This is another thing that is hidden but only few people have found. In this scenario i am not fond of actually just saying its because of his connection to Ena. i am more fond- and find it much more reasonable that it has impacted and grown from his trauma. While i will not clarify which i believe he has since thats leaning more into headcanon territory. Unhealthy childhood environments and events predispose and increase the risk of various psychiatric disorders and OCD is one of them. It is clear that Sunday has been indoctrinated and been taught to think the way he does now. The family is cultish and it doesn't seem to act as one, everyone has their own ideals- and motives, including Gopher. Grooming does not have to be sexual in order for it to be considered grooming, grooming is defined as when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. In this scenario, Gopher has essentially groomed Sunday to exploit him and use him as a sacrifice. Groomed and abused, religious abuse seems to be a big one in this especially considering the huge religious imagery in Penacony, but it is important to point out some common symptoms of religious abuse is doubtful faith and compulsive perfectionism which resemble in Sunday. Most times, religious abuse is often paired with other forms of abuse, most commonly being sexual grooming and emotional abuse. This does not leave other forms of abuse out such as physical however. Gopher has 'trained' Sunday to think this way (Sundays ideaology), and indoctrinated him for his own use, and you can see it in Sundays extreme ways of dealing with his belief. there is clear there's an external force in his thinking- Gopher.

-> The 'family' dynamics and attitudes To continue, the family- as again, all have very different ideals, and motivations in Penacony. They act as completely separate entities yet still collaborate with each other. One thing remains crystal clear to me, that this family- follows a royal family sort of dynamic, where everything is hushed, you mustn't be too emotional, or too illogical. Basically coming to the point where Sunday has directly been told to not worry about Robin. He was never allowed to grieve. He is not allowed to grieve which is a horrid thing to be put through. Even when Gopher does deliver the news of Robin being shot there is a lack of care, and concern, he sounds non-chalant, going on to mention, "once you've attended to your outstanding tasks…" In any family emergency of sorts, that's the last thing you want to be told, you want to be there as soon as possible. Gopher wood simply does not have enough care, or concern for both of his 'children.' While this is my pure assumption, i do have reason to believe that the Family does share a rather cold dynamic, such as any other usual dynamic that is seen in stories where there is a political, rich, or royal family.

lack of care towards children, and moreso encouraging less 'child-like' traits

Parental figures primarily not being involved in the childs care, it is most likely that both Robin and Sunday were raised by the servants of the house, while Gopher remained some sort of mentor towards the both of them.

Isolation from other children in different life scenarios/circumstances

- Most often, children in these scenarios get put into a protective bubble, unaware of the outside. henceforth, another reasoning why Sunday might be so scared of the outside world. -> Sunday/Robins ideologies Both of them are entirely separate eachother belief wise, but they have one goal in mind. Helping people. I would describe Robins ideals as being quite idealistic and soft, that has come to her naturally, and its quite sweet. she wants world where people can live how they want. Even if its a bad one. Sunday on the otherhand quite thinks the opposite, i would describe his as: 'To protect everyone, keep them safe from pain, and suffering, their freedom of choice must be taken so they will suffer no longer, even if that means sacrificing all that i have.' This comes on very intense, as he does you know. send an entire star system to sleep!! But, His idea isn't exactly wrong. As in those questions he posed to us- we would've done the same if we were in the same scenario. Of course- if one of our siblings we knew were going to get shot in the future because of the path they chose- we would do our best to do that. It makes sense. But logically, and emotionally speaking, it is not in our best interest to control other lives and what they wish for, and what they dream for. What does Sunday want? Nothing. he is entirely swallowed with trying to help other people. He has no dream for himself. His dream- is others peoples dreams. What Sunday wanted, out of the goodness of his own heart, and the unfortunate abuse he has been put through, essentially what we call a utopia/dystopia. IT IS utopian to think of a world without pain, with harmony, where everyone is happy. But because of our nature as people, we want choice. so to us IT IS dystopian to think of a world were we have no choice, were we live on autopilot always content. He seeks escape, and he's not ashamed of it. The most common reason people seek escape, is because they're scared. They are scared of facing what they need to face. He is scared, he does not wish to see pain and suffering, he knows and purely thinks things are doomed from the start. Its almost nihilistic. And i understand it. paired with his childhood, Gopher and how he gets stuck in the confessional box hearing the most horrendous things, i would be like him too. "is this apart of your plan?" It is Gopher who brought the order to Penacony. That line above, implies that this wasn't Sunday's plan at all. Gopher was going to use Robin in the first place, but Sunday, again, being the oldest took the forefront of the indoctrination and abuse- thats how he now blindly believes in it. Gophers plans and his reason why hasn't been revealed. but i doubt it was because he genuinely cared for his people. It is depressing to see who Sunday is as a person, purely pessimistic, and so lost but obsessed with his belief, but to me and other people he is relatable; to him, things don't get better. he wants to stay in the moment. Suspended in a dream that is too perfect to be true. He seeks escape, escape for everyone. Things do get better, whether that is now, or later. We just need to keep trying and continuing on, no matter how tiring it is. -> headcanons, character design choices and religious imagery (Not a deepdive into the imagery!) UP TO MY FAVOURITE BIT!! ok, heres something that genuinely makes me want to explode, because if this is on purpose it is brilliant. Pointed out by Matchua and i actually think the first to notice it. his wings look clipped.

They don't seem very oval and/or similar to how normal bird wings would look. This can also be seen in Harmony MC's splash art too, the Raven being Sunday, and of course, the Charmony dove, Robin.

While the birdcage imagery is used on Robin, i think it is so damn powerful that if this is a deliberate design choice, that Sunday has been clipped. Depending on the clipping, it renders birds unable to fly until they grow back, and even then there is horrendous people out there who permanently injure the bird by clipping it wrong so its never able to fly again. A birdcage has a key. But once you take away a birds wings like that, it cant fly. It represents how Sunday can never seemingly become his normal self again, he will always be consumed by his pessimism and fear for the world around him. how there is seemingly 'no hope' We know that Robin is not clipped because in her skill her full wings pop out (even if this is just an effect...still) It also represents how damaging abuse is, how it takes away someones dignity and freedom. Religious imagery!! i'm sure you can find some super deep dives into it but i think one of the main things is how Sunday represents Jesus from the Christian bible. The thorns across his coat tie in deeply with the fact that on the crucifix, Jesus was given a thorn crown which was used to belittle and mock him. Sunday falls back in the crucifix pose. He is the sacrifice. Not exactly to purge them of sin, but to give them an Eternal paradise. (which in Christianity, is what the purging of sin does, it gives us an eternal paradise next to God.) Headcanons: -> i believe Sundays OCD to either be of the Religious, Harm or Order OCD. i see all three occurring, but rather more on the Order/Religious side. -> Sunday is a people pleaser, no buts!! -> He has alot of shame and self hatred towards himself for wanting things, as he believes it doesn't make him 'perfect' -> He strikes me to have some form of anxiety, again this can tie in with the OCD -> His small/awkward chuckles are just him trying to cope, i feel like he does it alot more when he is anxious though, towards the end of the quest he doesn't chuckle, which officially means hes lost it (lmao poor guy) -> Very scared of making mistakes. Really small ones too. (as you find in some abuse victims.) -> jealous of his sister but he could never come to hate her, he just wishes he was able to participate in being creative too but i do think he was shamed for that, for being 'childish'. Robin was the 'jewel' of the family. Sunday never was. -> as some abuse victims do, he probably never understood or came to understand that Gopher was abusive to him, maybe after 2.2 possibly. And when he does come to understand God. He's got a lot of healing to do in himself. A lot of anger, grief, sadness- tons of processing. -> He doesn't like hugs at first because he was really not hugged as a child, but when he does get hugged it absolutely destroys him because he really really loves being validated and being held. Something that he lacked so much as a child. -> As birds do when their stressed, Sunday plucks the feathers out of his wings, which leads to him being insecure about them so he never really shows them, which is why he keeps them neatly folded Infront of his waist and hides the back part of his wings with his coat. -> Forgets to eat, drink and bathe due to working so much. He gets so lost in his work he's probably stayed up for more than 48 hours. (ok like i know its the dreamscape but listen.) -> I didn't add this into the first part, but including all of the other things i mentioned, Sunday was alot more quiet/introverted as a child as i interpret him to be, while Robin was more of a blabbermouth. So thats why Gopher decided on Sunday instead, lesser chance of anyone finding out about what he was teaching. -> Never had a day of rest in his life. He needs a break. That's pretty much all i've got to say though (i'm going to spare you from my headcanons i have on his behaviors. that list is LONG.), i just think Sunday is a really interesting yet heartbreaking character at the same time. Very relatable to alot of people. He's not genuinely evil. Just severely misguided and hurt. Thx for reading <3

[rius-cave]

It’s a bit strange that you only added “pro shipper” to your bio after someone felt uncomfortable that they spent money on your rape fetish comic without realizing that’s what it was (after which you literally blamed them for not assuming it was, despite no content warnings being anywhere, which was the only thing they wanted when they messaged you anyway)

You also only added it on Twitter, not here… I assume because you know Tumblr doesn’t like that. If you’re going to be in a community known for enabling abuse and pedophilia by allowing real abusers to go undetected in your circles because you all think fantasizing about abuse is normal, at least make it public everywhere. People deserve to know who they are talking to, especially since these are such touchy subjects.

Literally anyone you know who are into these things could be for real about it and you would never know unless you were too. There is no excuse for wanting to be part of any community that allows that to happen, and I don’t find it fair that people are being mocked with “respect your own DNI” as if that was the problem. They would have followed their DNI if they had known it applied to you… what they asked you for was putting a rape warning on StOP. Which you still didn’t do

I know a lot of proshippers are victims. But a lot of others are too, and we don’t appreciate being thrown under the bus in the name of “fighting purity culture” as if it’s the same as being anti-kink.

Anon I don't know if you're my ex-patreon supporter or if you're a friend of theirs or what, but it's funny to me that they kept saying they didn't want to start any trouble with me and then this happens lol ok I guess.

You also failed to mention I refunded all the money they gave to my Patreon and apologized for the confusion, I don't know how else I should apologize to them, if you or they want me to stop drawing StOP, that's not gonna happen 🤷 I've said everywhere, multiple times, that StOP is a fuck or die comic, whether you want to take that as dubcon or noncon or not is up to you. The way I write is not really that way because all parties are VERY MUCH into it by the time they start doing anything, but I am AWARE that I can't call it completely consensual just by the nature of the fuck or die scenario. Maybe this person just wasn't aware that fuck or die = noncon, that is.... Not really my fault, it literally comes with that label, I'm sorry :/

Also, my bio has ALWAYS said I'm proship lol I don't know what you're going on about.

It's not a thing I have on my Tumblr bio because before Hazbin, I didn't post any of that stuff to *this* Tumblr, now I've stopped giving a shit but just didn't think to add it to my bio because idk *shrugs* I didn't care that much. You want me to add the proship label here too? I will, I have no issue with it, I am not trying to hide and it's not because "Tumblr doesn't like that" I couldn't care less lolol.

And my friend, sighs, anti circles are known for having more real predators than proship circles. I can't even begin to tell you how many teenagers were groomed in anti circles because they thought it was a """safe space""" while adults in proship spaces literally want nothing to do with minors. I am open about who I am and what I like, I am not afraid to say it because I am not ashamed even if I get people like you in my inbox lmao

My tag of "respect your own DNI" is because people will think proshippers are gross and want nothing to do with them but they'll... Still be the first people to talk to you once they find out.... You're proving my point right now lmao

[furiousgoldfish]

I've been trying to find a common thread on 'victims of abuse easily being victimized again', because it is a trend, and it happens so often. A person who is abused as a child, or just abused long-term, will commonly find themselves in another abusive situation, in an abusive friendship or a relationship or marriage, or it can be workplace abuse, a cult, exploitation, power imbalance, trafficking.

The main view of this was that the victims of abuse are so well adjusted to abusive and exploitative environment, that they feel more at home in an abusive situation, than a normal, healthy one, and that they will unknowingly choose an abusive partner, spouse, boss or friend, because it feels normal, they know what to do, and how to behave in it. While there is a certain pattern of abuse victims sometimes getting attached to new toxic people, I don't consider it to be true, and for one reason: as soon as the victims realize their new situation is toxic, they cut it off. I have been introduced to hundreds, if not thousand new abusive situations, attempted grooming into cults, exploitative workplaces, toxic friendships, I've all but been swarmed by it, and I've opted out of every single one, as soon as I've realized what I'm dealing with.

I don't think a regular person will even find themselves running into this many entrances to abuse, and abuse victims often do. Do abusers know exactly who to target? Can they see the signs of abuse on us, that paint a bright red dots on our faces? I don't think they do.

I think the explanation runs deeper than that; it's the lack of protection. A person who's been abused for a long time, clearly lacks community that would protect them from the abuse. If they've been abused by their parents, they weren't able to find any protection outside that, and they've got no family who would protect them and back them up in times of vulnerability. If they've been in a long-term abusive relationship or workplace, again, it means their social circles, family, friends, colleges, all failed to protect them. Abuse is a clear sign of 'if something bad happens to this particular person, nobody will do anything about it'. And that is what the abusers are looking for. Not emotional naivety, not someone who is in clear distress and trauma, but someone who is socially isolated, unprotected, without family, close friends, any kind of protective borders or authority that would react to this person getting abused.

I've seen people with far more naivety and kindness than I have, and talked people down who were far more eager to assume good intentions for abusers. And those were never even exposed to this manner of abuse, because they had good families, strong friendship groups and people who would act immediately if something bad were to happen to this individual. They're allowed to keep their kind assumptions, willingness to help and naive nature, because they're well protected within the society; they're simply not what the abusers are aiming for.

Being unprotected is hardly something we can cause, control, or affect or on own. Building community when you have no family, close friends or a social circle, is extremely hard, especially after surviving the abuse. We instinctively know it's what would protect us, that's why we all strive for it so badly, we know we'd be safe if people around us cared passionately, and would stand up to protect us. But it doesn't happen, and right now, more and more people are vulnerable in the lieu of bad financial stability, lack of social connections, social isolation, longing for contact, feeling unworthy, rejected, abandoned. And just looking for a sustainable job, comfort, friendship, social connection or even contact and spiritual fulfillment, can land people in more abuse.

Usually those who do escape abuse do so on their own, and at that point, our own efforts are all that is protecting us from the further abuse. We have to stand strong and defend ourselves, constantly. it's exhausting, and it's not our fault if our lack of social protection paints a target on our back. Sometimes it can feel like it's hopeless, getting free from abuse only to go back to the world where we're alone, rejected, without contact and left all to ourselves again, it feels like one type of devastation is replaced with the other. But not suffering abuse is always better than anything else. Freedom of mind, heart and soul, is always better than suffering abuse.

[stellar-constellations]

Nemlei's December 2024 Devlog

A snippet of the Devlog for those who haven't read it yet.

If you want to see the whole devlog, go to the Steam page for the Coffin of Andy and Leyley. Or click this link: https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/2378900/view/4453592738017838121?l=english

Hello, my stars! Normally I don't bother addressing the progress reports or the devlogs for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley; however, this one devlog did stick out to me.

I almost felt like as a member of the community that I had to say something, even if it wasn't personal or directed to me at all. As someone who joined this game due to hearing the controversies of the creator and what they're doing, I feel like I can speak on at least MY behalf for the non-incest supporters.

What's under this cut might contain opinions you don't agree with. Don't be like Nemlei's haters and target me, just scroll away if you disagree with me. I will not engage in an argument with a stranger online where I don't even know their face; that's childish.

Under this cut will feature: opinions potentially different from yours, incest-related topics, oversharing of my life, and sexual abuse. If you are not comfortable with that, just scroll away and don't keep reading.

I had never knew who Nemlei was until I heard about the controversy surrounding them. When I heard about the game featuring incest-related topics, I was pretty disgusted. Incest in 2024? I thought we evolved far enough from the past to forget about this.

The reason why I'm so against incest is because I have siblings myself; biological siblings, half-blooded siblings, and step siblings. So I always found it revolting. Whenever I thought of the incest in Nemeli's game, I always felt disturbed because I always thought of my siblings.

It's like when you watch a movie and the father dies (if you have a good relationship with your father, that is) I would always ball my eyes out. I've always been pretty sensitive when it came to family due to the fact I was raised to always love your family so long as they love you; but I never took that sense in something farther than familial love.

I also don't believe in incest due to the harm that could happen if two blood-related people procreated. As someone who works with children on a daily basis, just seeing them scrape their knee pains me to know they're hurt. If they were in constant pain due to a genetic error that could've been prevented, I would be furious at the parents and pity the kid. I also believe in if the parent was able to go after their own father/mother/sibling, who is to say they won't go after their own child who doesn't know any better?

I do completely understand the argument between fiction and reality. As someone who writes about murder in my stories, it obviously doesn't make me a murderer; however, glamorizing and romanticizing it is where I cross the line. I've always had warnings in my work. I firmly believe that if you cannot tell the difference between fiction and reality, you should not read my work let alone be allowed access to the internet.

Why do I allow murder in my stories but not incest? Well, for starters, incest is a long term kind of ordeal, it usually doesn't suddenly happen, it builds up over time in the acts of grooming and most incest cases are because of unwanted sexual abuse that evolves into manipulation and a eventually the victim developing a toxic love I’d describe closest to Stockholm Syndrome (just without the kidnapping) . Murder however, doesn't always have to be planned, hence why there's first-degree, second-degree, and third-degree. A sudden murder on a stranger doesn't have that psychological abuse on the victim as it happens so fast and they're, you know, dead.

Think of it this way. If I had to go out, I would rather it happen quick than slow. I assume most others would agree with me too. We humans don't like pain, so why would we willingly prolong a person's misery if we ourselves don't like it?

I'm stalling though. The biggest reason I don't support incest is because of what happens to the victim afterwards. My cousin was a victim of molestation from her biological father, and my aunt was a victim of sexual abuse from her step-father (which falls under the category of step-incest).

Incest does not in any means involve consent. My real, biological family did not consent to what happened to them and to this day they struggle from what happened to them at early ages.

Real life incest also seems to tag into pedophilia. Most children who have unfortunately suffered from sexual abuse and assault know their perpetuators as their own family. It’s that gross belief that pedophiles and pro-incesters have alike: “Any hole is a goal,” whether it’s a child or your own blood. It also doesn’t help that those who believe in incest also usually have sociopathic tendencies and beliefs, and there have been crimes of murder committed because of one-sided incestual love; but of course, that’s the real life stuff, not fiction like the TCOAAL game is. My problem is having the audacity to glamorize and romanticize such ill-behavior; not taking into account that it’s fiction.

So, you can see why I'm against incest so much. But that leaves the question: why am I apart of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley community if I don't support their implied-incest, fiction or not?

Because The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is so much more than that.

It's not just incest and those who think it is are completely stupid. It is a "psychological horror game" which means it is supposed to mess with your mind. Horror doesn't mean blood and guts, it's meant to gross you out too, which is what Nemlei understands.

"Psychological" means your way of thinking, psychological horror is supposed to terrorize your brain and test your way of thinking, not terrorize your eyes with an unrealistic amount of blood or a stab wound.

The “allowing murder and cannibalism but not incest” argument? Yeah, that’s not really valid and here’s why.

Yeah there was murder in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, but it wasn't mindless. Most of the murders were self-defense (killing the wardens to escape, killing the lady in the apartment because she tried to hurt Andrew and tell the wardens, killing the hitman because he tried to kill them first).

The murder of the Graves parents were iffy, but hey, if you believe in revenge murder because of the psychological damage your parents put you through, then sure (fictionally, of course). The murder of Nina was uncalled for, I can't justify that one nor do I really understand why Ashley wanted it other than jealousy and for Andrew to focus solely on her, but go off I guess Nemlei.

And let's not forget the classic cannibalism, which was done to literally survive. There is a law in some places where if you're in a life or death situation with absolutely no access to food, you can cannibalize in means to survive. It’s messed up, but at the end of the day if it needs to be done, it needs to be done.

And it's a horrifying and a mind-boggling concept, and yet so well-thought out! That is the true meaning of psychological horror, it fucks with your brain in a way you can understand why, but don't like it. It’s literally a true example of psychological horror!

I have this saying that I believe in: "You don't have to like a person to appreciate their hard work.”

Even with all the Nemlei controversy, she doesn't deserve the kind of hate she receives. I mean, telling someone to kill themselves? Just how immature are you? I bet you wouldn't say that if you were face-to-face with her; people on the internet are too careless, leaving digital footprints that will trace back to them. Karma will get them, don't worry.

Even if she did purposely instigate others (with this image):

Which was pretty immature and petty to do knowing how crazy people on the internet are, she still doesn't deserve to literally be chased off the internet for her own fictional creations. It's funny how people will hate on her and her work, yet check each and every devlog, stalk her social medias, and dox her. It's disgusting behavior and I'm ashamed to say that they're not even human.

How could you treat a fellow human, with different experiences and problems, different and ostracize them all because you don't agree with their opinions? Haven't you ever heard to shut your mouth if you have nothing nice to say?

I’ve been in a few dark ages myself, but I can never imagine the fear and the anxiety Nemlei must go through on a day-to-day basics because of these so-called “fellow humans” who seek out to hurt her.

I think I would rather jump a cliff myself than tell someone that I don’t even know to commit suicide (or worse, someone I do know, which I seriously doubt you reading this are personal with Nemlei). I have diagnosed depression and take medication for it, so to hear that comment on the wrong day, would might literally be the end of my life; and it’s something I would never wish upon someone else to hear. Especially someone who has a passion and works hard to it; whether you like it or not, it makes her happy, and as long as it’s not actually hurting people in real life, then none of us have a say in it.

But anyways, I think I said what I wanted to say.

Treat everyone with the kindness you were treat yourself. And if you don't treat yourself kindly, start working on it. If you disrespect yourself, others will too. We really don’t live long enough to care about what others think because let’s face it, the whole world will never agree on one thing, it’s why we have separate political parties and laws varying in every country and state.

We really just have to make the best we can in the world. Goodness should be embodied into our realities, not just fiction. Be the change you want to see.

Thank you for reading. If you have a different opinion, don’t bother trying to change my mind. I’m not arguing about this and you’ll simply be blocked.

[timkontheunsure]

Ok so Fizzarolli has some major daddy issues, and will do anything for a surugate father figure.

Let's poke at that abit.

While he sings about a mum and dad in 'look at this', they don't appear to have raised him. Maybe he's an orphan, because he doesn't sound upset at them. (So probably not abandoned or ran away to the circus).

He seems to have glommed onto Cash, who used that to work the kid like crazy, with multiple shows a day.

Both Cash and Mammon are without a doubt narcissists, who only see people as tools to be used.

It was great seeing Fizz, with the backup of his friend and lover, finally cut ties with Mammon,

But let's look at some of the reasons why Fizz was easier to manipulate into such a horrible working situation.

Ok out of the 3 circus kids Fizzarolli was the most talented, this would put him in the position of the golden child.

This isn't a good position, (no position with a narcissist is good), because all love and privileges from a narcissist are conditional.

So while they normally get less physical abuse; the kid has to be perfect. If they slip all love and affection is withdrawn.

This explains why he's so worried that Ozzie won't love him anymore if he doesn't win a competition Ozzie doesn't give a hoot about.

Problems former golden children often have are: lifelong anxiety issues, panic attacks, over competitiveness, as well as being people pleaser, and chronic over worker.

We can see that alot of these traits are already present in ickle teenage Fizz.

Instead of telling the creepy fan to big off, he's trying to appease him, while wrapping his tail around himself to self soothe. And need to relay on Blitz to get him out of the situation.

And unfortunately like with all childhood abuse it sets the person up for more abuse down the line.

This is because it feels familiar, and is hard to not assume that what you grew up with isn't just normal.

Especially when Fizz goes from one abusive boss, who is a pseudo father to another. This sets Fizzarolli up for worse abuse and being groomed. ( Along with Mammon does say he wants a kid to win the contest, and make sex bots of that underage kiddo. Flipping hell that dark even for helluva).

I really like the accurate look at different types of trauma that Helluva Boss does; and how it can be over come. 😀

It's awesome that when Fizz understands he has the backup, and a safe place with Ozzie that's not conditional, he can finally tell Mammon

[thdrama2]

an ex friend from toyhouse is now stalking me here too. girly you already ip blocked me on toyhouse why do you still insist on following me around here? like come on!!! you groomed a kid leave me alone :3

needed to yell into the void about this sorry jesus mod

You cannot prove that the anon who sent in an ask about you is this specific person that you had beef with.

However I glanced at your PSA because it was short and here are my thoughts:

The main point of the PSA is a grooming claim. However, all the screenshot evidence presented is from 2022 when you were 18.

You don't know what love bombing means. Love bombing is quick, intense and overly familiar and is involved in patterns of explosive abuse or emotional manipulation such as verbal/physical abuse and passive aggressive "mind games." A long term relationship with occasional birthday art and comforting your insecurities when you feel shitty is not love bombing. Even if gifts broke your boundary it is not "love bombing."

Suicide baiting is encouraging suicide which they did not do. I assume what you meant to accuse them of is using suicide threats to keep you in a relationship. Too bad your evidence also didn't show any screenshots of such a threat so this is unfounded. You just talked about your mental illness together.

You both trusted each other enough to confide in one another about self harm and suicide. This is a normal thing friends and partners do and is not abuse. However, sharing such personal private messages does make you a shitty friend and not a trustworthy person for potential future friends.

I hope that the friends "helping you compile" another document are well aware that as soon as you fall out in a few years that you'll likely just do the same to them with their private discussions of mental illness.

No evidence of underage grooming was presented. No evidence of abuse was presented and the accused abuse used unresearched buzzwords not even applicable to the actual evidence presented.

You had a good relationship that just went south and your breakup was traumatic. Not every traumatic painful thing or misunderstanding in a relationship is abuse, it just hurts.

Go deal with your own shitty breakup privately like adults and stop sending me DMs about how I should be your little watchdog and "send you screenshots" if another ask about you comes in.

You are 20 and 24 with a 22 year old also butting in for God's sake. Not squabbling teenagers.

[t4tails]

i know its an older post but irt that incest post sometimes i feel like ppl just dont and cannot get it until it happens to them. i couldnt even comprehend it as a possibility until i was 14 staying at my uncles house for a while and i still cant comprehend it as a thing that happened to me sometimes. i think its bc ppl feel security with their families in that sense— even if theyre abused in other ways, its like, “well, i know them and they’d still never do THAT.”

perhaps its bc we are still not educated about the dangers of incest as children. ever. we are taught stranger danger. we’re taught what inappropriate touch is. and when we’re a little older we’re taught to recognize grooming behaviors, but we’re never taught about what its like when it comes from family members— and what’s more we’re taught to assume the best from family members, to think of them as the exception to inappropriate touch or behaviors, when they DO make us uncomfortable instead of recognizing those behaviors as red flags. then one day it becomes too late, like it did with me. and maybe that contributes to the idea that its a non-possibility in some people, that it only happens in fiction.

the most i’ve ever seen presented to children as a red flag irt incest is the idea of a mother’s boyfriend or a stepparent acting inappropriately, but that still comes from the angle of “you havent known them for as long so this means they could also be a predator.”

we still don’t fully address what the commonly cited statistic “most sexual abuse comes from someone the survivor knows” MEANS. its not just friends. not just partners. its your family, too. its people you’ve known all your life.

but ultimately— i’m finally making my point i promise— the reason we dont address those things is because the idea that children should be able to turn to their community when their family fails them is too controversial, and not just among families that support incestuous abuse. “if my child knows they can confide in a teacher/neighbor about anything, they might become rebellious. god forbid somebody other than me contributes to my child’s development!”

people prefer the heightened possibility of their child being subjected to incestuous abuse over their child having any semblance of autonomy.

sorry for the long ask i’d usually post this to my blog but this is not something i’d be okay publicly speaking about.

hi sorry this took a bit to answer that post IS from a while ago and i wasnt sure how to respond, because i have fortunately never experienced that type of abuse myself and dont have much to add beyond agreement. i didnt want to just leave this in my inbox though since its clear you put a lot of thought into it.

i think a lot of the opportunities for incestuous abuse stem from the traditional family structure not actually prioritizing protection or comfort, but control that feels threatened every time somebody tries to bring it up. nobody wants to actually prevent it because that would mean acknowledging family as a potential threat, as well as breaking down the ways the controlling of sex and ownership by said family is already normalized in culture (ex. fathers vigorously defending their daughters virginity, etc). this is all why imo discussions on this should go hand in hand with childrens rights and body autonomy, but even in these discussions its rare to see it actually brought up

its really something that needs to be talked about more, but people struggle to see past "alabama" jokes and fauxcest porn