#tw psychological abuse

[patricide-doll]

So like, I think that Jupiter wanted to kill jason as a child.

Eliminate the threat, this little child, before he grows up to eventually dethrone him. But Jason was needed for the quest, so he just settled with physical and psychological abuse instead :)

And when the quest was over, Jason was free to kill anyway, and I think Jason knew it.

He thought he could outrun it, he'd go to Camp Half Blood and attend like normal school. He wouldn't be a threat.

Bur he was from his birth and he died. He knew he was going to die.

[jinxedshapeshifter]

did. did kristoph gaslight apollo.

i'm not entirely saying this because i'm researching gaslighting and it feels like it fits kristoph and apollo's dynamic in turnabout trump. arguably it's in the text. was it entirely successful? for a time. but looking through the transcript for turnabout trump i'm like "huh. it feels an awful lot like kristoph is gaslighting apollo to get him to start doubting phoenix."

i have to wonder if that's the only time kristoph ever tried to gaslight apollo. i mean, i seriously doubt it personally considering the kind of person kristoph is but regardless.

this explains even more of apollo's behavior in dual destinies too, i think. last time one of his coworkers was accused of murder, he was manipulated and gaslit into thinking it couldn't possibly be true. in turnabout for tomorrow, he's being told athena couldn't possibly be the culprit. he even directly says that he can't fully trust athena with the way things are going in the trial. i would not be surprised if he was thinking back to his first trial and kristoph's manipulation and used "evidence is everything" as a failsafe so he wouldn't be manipulated or gaslit again. it also makes the parallel to kristoph when he does say evidence is everything really really interesting. kristoph used it to manipulate people. apollo's using it to avoid getting manipulated (again).

this is not the first time i've talked about apollo and kristoph's dynamic and how it affected apollo in dual destinies. i have mentioned before that apollo having trauma from kristoph being arrested and imprisoned for murder probably affected his treatment of athena in dual destinies. what i did not bring up is how kristoph's manipulation might've played into it, because i didn't really realize how much kristoph tried to manipulate apollo to avoid being found out as the culprit of shadi's murder.

i also think it's worth mentioning that we do know kristoph was willing to win trials by any means necessary. is it really a stretch to assume he presented some suspicious evidence during court and gaslit or manipulated apollo into not questioning it? on that note, i wonder if he did the same to klavier. we know kristoph is emotionally abusive to klavier. would he really be above gaslighting his employees on a regular basis? (no. no he wouldn't)

[lady-rosceline-hurst]

...<ADMIN LOGIN REQUESTED>

...<AUTHORIZING...>

...<ACCESS GRANTED>

...<WELCOME ADMINISTRATOR 'EVELYN'>

FUCK. Fuck this. I can't just sit on this anymore. WE can't. I- What are you on about? Panic attacks again? Oh for- NO, Roy. The footage. The FUCKING footage. From that GODDAMN Karrakin House. Ohhhh, that. It's really got you fired up, huh? I haven't seen you like this since-

...<USERNAME CHANGE AUTHORIZED>

...<WELCOME ADMINISTRATOR 'JESTER'>

RA below... You're that serious about this? Yes. ... My pilot. My host. My other half. You who saved me from being shoved back into that prison of the mind they call shackling... I stood by you when you made the decision to leave the cockpit because I knew it would be best for you. Best for us. I've had my fun with these nobles. But this is different. This information is so sensitive... This isn't stirring the pot, this is tipping it over. I will stand by you, but we have to decide together, and for certain. I don't care about these meatbags. They're nothing but entertainment to me. You're the only one. So tell me beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is worth the risk to you, and I will stand by you again.

It is, Roy. People need to know. Maybe not all of fuckin Karrakin space... But at least these people. I'm sure that girl has some kind of plan, but I can't stand by and do nothing at all.

My pilot. My Evie. Always playing the hero. It's in your bones, I think. Heh. Alrighty. Heheheh. I'll start encrypting. Put a mass message together and let's do this shit. It's almost like old times... 'cept Roach and King ain't here to save our asses if things go wrong.

...<ENCRYPTING FILES>

...<UPLOADING VIDEO FILE>

...<MASS MESSAGE SENT>

...

Timestamp: Nov 28, 5016u - 1:56 AM

[What appears to be security footage of a Karrakin Throne Room. A woman sits cross-legged upon this throne. Her hair is brown, but she has yellow eyes which mark her as a Hurst. Other people occupy the room. Guards. Serfs. Rosceline Hurst kneels at the base of the throne. Her eyes are puffy and red. She wears a terrified expression.]

Rosceline: Mother I-

???: Mother? Girl, thou dost know tis a privilege to refer to me thus. A privilege that I have not been made to take away in some years... until now.

Rosceline: Of course, Lady Violet. Mine deepest and sincerest apologies, Lady Violet.

Violet: Rosceline Hurst. Thou hast done a truly staggering amount of damage in but a single night. Where to begin... Thou, as mine Heiress, hast shown weakness in thyself upon a public platform. Thou hast revealed vulnerabilities in our House upon a public. Platform. Thou hast exposed our lies concerning thine sister's disappearance for what they art upon a PUBLIC. PLATFORM. Thou hast exposed us to our enemies, Rosceline. Thou hast EMBARRASSED me for no small number of reasons. I am beyond disappointed. I am disgusted. I thought thee better. I made thee better. Explain thyself. Now.

[Rosceline begins to shake]

Rosceline: M- ... Lady Violet... I make no excuse for mine actions. I... had a moment of weakness. Tis the pressure of all that hath transpired since Rebecca's disappearance. I had thought mine own self stronger. Verily, I have failed thee. But... But I shall fix it! Only allow me another chance and I shall fix it! And it shall never happen again, I do swear!

Violet: <sigh> I do fear the damage thou hast done hath put us well past that, Rosceline. Hast thou any idea how troublesome it shall be to clean up this mess? The letters I should have to write... Egads... No... No, Rosceline.

[Violet claps her hands.]

Violet: Guards.

Rosceline: Wha-

[The guards move to turn on the servants in the room, grabbing each serf to immobilize them. A panic begins, but with a snap of Violet's fingers it is snuffed out within seconds.]

Violet: Choose.

[Rosceline's breaths become shorter. Desperate.]

Rosceline: M-my Lady, I am afraid I- I do not-

Violet: Choose. Thou dost understand the punishment, dost thou not? Or hast thou forgotten? Thine weakness was the cause of this, Rosceline. So, choose who shall face the consequences. These Ignobles, or thyself. Either the decision shall be simple or thou dost prove to me that thou hast need of correction.

[Tears begin to drip down Rosceline's cheeks.]

Rosceline: Prithee... Prithee do not make me do this...

Violet: Thou dost test mine patience, girl. Choose.

Rosceline: ...

Violet: ROSCELINE.

Rosceline: M-myself. I do choose myself.

[A wave of whispers washes through the crowd. It is dismissed with another snap.]

Violet: <sigh> Rosceline... Sweet Rosceline. Soft Rosceline. STUPID Rosceline. Tis as I feared... Guards.

[Violet claps her hands once more.]

Violet: Take them all to the dungeons. Including mine Heiress.

[The servants begin screaming as the guards begin to drag them away. Rosceline is apprehended as well. Her remaining words are uttered through tears and wails.]

Rosceline: THOU DID LIE TO ME!

Violet: Of course I did, thou little fucking brat. If only thou had made the right decision. Verily, I would have let everyone walk free. But since thou doth insist upon sentimentality befitting a House of Water Republican, they shall pay the price alongside thee. Mayhap thou shall be reminded by example of the ruthlessness thou art meant to embody.

[Rosceline continues to wail. Over the course of a minute, she and the servants are removed from the room.]

[verysadlesbian]

Do we think Armand messing with Louis' memories is the reason why he has memory issues in the present day or is it the PTSD plus the passing of time? Cause personally, I think it's all of those combined. It definitely didn't help, if I know anything about gaslighting (and I do)

[victoria-vd]

OFFSCREEN POST

Heartless

// tw for discussions of death, psychological abuse(?) <- i really don't know how else to describe it...?

Victoria did not care for the winter solstice.

It was nearly midnight. The party, while not quite over, was nearing its waning moments. The songs had been sung, the candles had been blown, and cake had been cut. Drunk laughter roared throughout the hall as party attendees clumsily danced to the lively music of a live band. The main festivities were over, all that was left now was celebration and wine. Neither of which were of interest to a freshly 15 year-old Victoria.

Victoria sat at one of the far tables from the dance floor, isolated from the rest of her party. As the party began to die down, Mother had spared from the duty of socializing with guests any longer. So with crossed arms and closed eyes, she reclined in her seat and drew in a long breath. leaning her head against the back of the chair. She could feel the beat of the music reverberating through her body— the bass in her chest, the percussion in her ears, the brass in her soul. Normally she hated loud music, but today it was a blessing in disguise: it drowned out the drunken thoughts around her, providing her solace from the unfiltered thoughts of those in attendance.

She'd take music over minds any day.

Finally alone with her own thoughts, she found herself thinking back to everything that had occurred in the past year. It seemed that much had happened in just the last few months alone— she'd begun attending Naranja-Uva Academy, she'd been placed into a coma, she'd become friends with the psychic who placed her in said coma, said friend turned out to be her best friend who'd been missing for the past 7 years, she allowed said friend to drag her into another dimension on a rescue mission in Alola. It baffled her how it seemed that her life had been turned on its head in the span of a few months. So much around her has changed. She'd like to think it's changed for the better.

And now here she was: Victoria Colette Velasco-Delgado, one year closer to becoming the head of the Velasco family. 

What would the coming year bring about next?

The sudden sound of a chair being pulled up beside her dragged her out of her thoughts.

Hm. Perhaps the music was too loud— she hadn't heard anyone approaching her. Victoria opened the eye closest to the sound to catch a glance at whomever had decided to join her at the table.

An older man with jet black hair squatted down in the chair next to her. He clasped his hands together and leaned forwards to rest his arms against the table, letting out an exhausted sigh. With kind eyes and a familiar smile, the man tilted his head to look at her with a small laugh.

She raised her head from the back of her chair, narrowing her eyes at what appeared to be her late uncle reborn. "Do you need something?"

"Woah there, lunita," the man raised his arms defensively. "Where are your manners? Is that any way to greet your tío?"

The girl silently glared at him. She knew this game of his. Rolling her eyes, she turned her head away and said, "You are not my tío."

He placed a hand to his chest and pouted with an exaggerated frown. "You break my heart, Victoria."

"I could break more," Victoria warned.

The man hummed thoughtfully, staring off into the distance as he watched the drunken adults on the dance floor. "Oh, I'm sure you could," he nodded. "You're very good at that, y'know. Breaking things."

"I consider it an art," she replied. "Destruction is a medium in which I excel."

"Then do you consider yourself Michelangelo?"

"To chisel a masterpiece is to destroy it until it is beautiful. So perhaps I do."

"Oh please," her late uncle scoffed. "I'd hardly call anything you've done a masterpiece."

Victoria looked him up and down from the corner of her eye. "Then you know nothing of art, Sebastián."

Behind the mask of his late father's face, her cousin frowned deeply. The illusion of Tío Paz wrinkled her nose at her. "Tell me, Victoria, do you consider murder an art?"

"Manslaughter. Not murder."

He threw his arms up in the air. "Whatever!" Slamming a hand onto the table, he raised his voice and growled, "Do you think killing is an art, Victoria? Was his death beautiful? Was his destruction your greatest masterpiece?"

Victoria didn't spare him a glance. Furrowing her brows, she narrowed her eyes and said, "Your illusion is slipping, Sebastián."

A tense silence fell between the two. The sound of furious, heavy breathing was the only sound to be heard over the live music and distant conversation across the room.

With a dark, growing chuckle, the image of her Tío Paz melted away, leaving only his son in his place. "You..." Sebastián shook his head with the corners of his lips curled upwards, laughing. "You haven't changed a bit, huh?"

"And yet you keep trying, hoping the results will be different. So I suppose that makes two of us."

"For fuck's sake, Victoria—" Seb kicked his chair back and stood over his cousin with a snarl, "You know what I want! Just three words, it's not that fuckin' hard!"

The girl glared up at him. "I. Was. Six."

"And now you're fifteen," he shot back. "Saying sorry shouldn't be that hard for you."

"It isn't." Victoria rose from her seat to meet his eyes, "I just don't particularly feel like saying it to you." She turned to walk away without another word.

Sebastián opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. As she walked further from her table, she heard him call out to her, "You're real fuckin' heartless, you know that?"

Oh, she knew.

Scene End.

[thehellsaint]

Dr. Colin Ross is a DSM contributor. He's not just some random doctor. He is PART of that academic consensus you're talking about.

I couldn't find anything about him contributing to the DSM but what I did find was a lot of information from a malpractice suit brought against him for abusing his patients at an inpatient facility.

Here's Elizabeth Hart's affidavit describing being over medicated, wherein Dr Ross would dismiss her complaints by calling them switches and naming different alters responsible for her reactions.

While still hospitalized in the ward, Dr. Ross admitted a male patient in what was, up until that point, a female only ward. The patient had videos on file of him sexually assaulting multiple women. There's no surprise then that the patient assaulted Ms. Hart and when she sought help from Dr. Ross he said, "I didn't think he would do that on the ward."

When she reported him to the local paper for negligence resulting in her sexual assault while in his care, he "became furious" and "told me I had to get out." He then proceeded with the patient discharge of Ms. Hart despite knowing he would be forcing her out to face extreme withdrawals from the medication he put her on.

He left that hospital some time later, abandoning her with no recommendation or way to set up a continuation of treatment, she was left to face the addiction he created alone. When she finally was able to speak to him again, he suggested more medication.

The next year, he would deny to her face that he ever gave her medication in the first place.

This is a very brief summary of only the first parts of one patients affidavit, of which there are two that I saw when looking at the case. Both victims of his malpractice continue to explain the things he put them through and I recommend reading through them.

But sure, if he says what endos wanna hear then his word is gospel, I guess.

[espers-n-espurrs]

wdym youdont know what ess him and what wasnt,?

bcause i might have psychosis. and that he mightve made it worse. thats what my brother said during the call.

aparantly my da has it and my granddad so its very likely for me to have it. and apparently ive shown sysmtioms of it and have had delusions in the past.

im currently revaluting a lot. so i dont know what was my brother and what was my mind.

because now that the optinion has been presented to me. yeag. i might have it.

sorry i think im dissasicating a little so imma stop talking. for a bit.

[yeoldecryptid]

Okay, so I watched La terreur et La Vertu last night, and I have to say, this film is criminally underrated though. HOWEVER big warning! The last time I cried this much while watching a movie was friggin Grave of The Fireflies. Big trigger warning for psychological abuse, (because that’s honestly the only way I can describe the hell Robespierre goes through in this thing.)

I’d especially recommend this film for my fellow autistics who need a good cry (obviously only if it’s not triggering.) This film was created at a time where it probably wasn’t intentionally about autism… but it’s about autism.

[warriors-ideas]

Au where ravenpaw is scourge that I’ve had in my head for a bit. Tw for the dynamic between tiger and raven that I’ll be describing (tigerclaw being a terrible, abusive mentor, though no violence it mostly just the psychological aspects)

So tiny still goes into the woods like the original scourge story goes, but this time Tigerclaw is a young(er) warrior when he attacks tiny. Bluestar/fur (she’s either right on the precipice of becoming leader or it’s her early leadership) defends tiny, takes him back to camp where he stays for a bit (a few moons since he’s younger than an apprentice) to heal his wounds, but eventually ends up joining the clan — believing that if he goes back home the twolegs will throw him in the river like his siblings told him. He’s named Ravenpaw when he comes of age, and is apprenticed to Tigerclaw; bluestar(or sunstar) seeing this as a way to force a bond between the two.

When Rusty joins the clans, Ravenpaw is notably the oldest apprentice because he’s been held back by Tigerstar for not suiting his standards. Raven’s personality is extremely different; he could be seen as timid, but he’s also largely very monotonous, straight forward (on most things) and kinda cold. He bonds with firepaw because they’re both ex kittypets, but generally Fire can tell something is off.

Ravenpaw carries a resentment towards clan society and structure that increasing as he ages and with every “failed” assessment. Tigerclaw has manipulated the clan into thinking he is a good mentor — that it’s Ravenpaw and his Kittypet origins that make him such a lackluster apprentice. When he kills the adder later on he’s sure it’ll give him his Warrior name, only for Tigerclaw to completely disregard him and his catch.

The relationship between the mentor and apprentice are strange, Ravenpaw only speaks to Tigerclaw when spoken to — and when he does occasionally speak out of turn he tenses up, like he’s majorly fucked up. There’s a palpable fear there, but also a hatred that is beginning to outgrow the fear; these conflicting emotions causing Ravenpaw to finally admit to what he saw when redtail died.

Tigerclaw isn’t fully aware Ravenpaw saw what happened, though he has a hunch — and Ravenpaw, though fearful of him has learned to mask his emotions in order to survive under him, had done a pretty good job of not looking too suspicious to his mentor, (I’d imagine here he never passes out, but almost does tell the clan before tigerclaw enters camp) at least until tigerclaw is pronounced deputy. In the heat of the moment and the rage he’s built up towards tigerclaw, he tells firepaw what he saw that day, confident he can trust Firepaw due to their shared heritage (in more ways than one but they don’t know that yet).

Not long after this, the rumors about Ravenpaw being a traitor start to really spread like wild fire, which is only fueled into an inferno when ShadowClan steals ThunderClan’s kits as cats begin pointing the finger at him. Instead of what happens in book where firepaw and Greypaw escort him to the barn — Ravenpaw vanishes after the kits are goe, similarly to how yellowfang also vanished, though…they do find Yellowfang. They never find Ravenpaw. It’s assumed ShadowClan killed him by the rest of the clan, but Firepaw — now Fireheart has his sights aimed at Tigerclaw.

The rest of the story follows loosely as it is in books with the main changes being that Ravenpaw is not at the barn, and it’s assumed he’s dead.

Until scourge shows up.

Ravenpaw this whole time had decided he was better off out of the clans as a rogue than anywhere near Tigerclaw — so he runs to the city. Ravenpaw is notably more adept to survival in harsh environments due to his training, though still a bit naive. Cats begin to take interest in his hunting skills, but that interest peaks when ravenpaw is seen playing with a dog tooth lazily one day, something he keeps carrying around. The lie starts that he’s fought a dog one on one this way, and eventually spirals into the scourge mythos he builds for himself, BloodClan built as both a mockery to the clans that never fully accepted him and his own way of improving on where they failed; where everyone was an outsider, a loner, rogue or kittypet, and no “true” clan cats existed. Scourge becomes cold and cruel, fully metamorphosing into this detached, power hungry figure that Tigerstar meets. The Tom is barely able to recognize Ravenpaw as scourge, and when he does…he’s somewhat impressed, though, believes the previous power he held over him will be easily translated into their business agreement here, so he foolishly takes his chances at manipulating Scourge.

Eventually, when scourge is reintroduced to the clans with a “clan” of his own, Tigerstar openly tries to challenge him…a challenge which is easily dealt with by his former apprentice. Firestar, having recognized his friend tries to reason with him — but Scourge is done, he gave the clans chances to change in his own eyes, gave cats like Tigerstar second chances and they never did. The only solution now is revenge for all they put him through, all they put anyone who didn’t “fit their standards” through. He gives Firestar a chance, though — join BloodClan, he’ll be given the respect the clans have never afforded him. Firestar declines, the war goes on.

During the battle, after Firestar has come back from his first death, he doesn’t kill scourge, instead, he offers him a second chance because as much as he hates what he’s become, he knows why he fell down this path and it isn’t too late — there is still good in Scourge. Scourge, having trained with Firestar and watched him grow, having entrusted him more than the entirety of the clan is moved by this, and he surrenders to Firestar, BloodClan retreating, but without scourge at the head.

Having surrendered scourge knows he cannot return to the city, knowing BloodClan will think him weak and kill him on sight, so, Firestar and greystripe escort him to the barn where barley awaits. Scourge changes his name Raven, ditches his collar and claws and lives out his life in peace with Barley who ofc he becomes mates with. Years down the line, when WarriorClan is built it’s definitely influenced by a chunk of Raven’s stories about his time in the clans. (Monkeystar is 100% their kid)

There’s also the alternate ending of Raven/scourge going on to rebuild SkyClan himself and influencing the concept of daylight warriors though probably never becoming the clans leader.

🐦‍⬛

[ablizmal]

the symbolism in the “L: change the world” photoshoot

(also some L childhood headcanons) (TW for dehumanization)

OKAY so i finally got around to finding a download of the “L: change the world” photoshoot, and not only is it extremely professional, but just… i feel like they really understood L’s character, because there’s so much symbolism in some of these photos, man.

like this?

i know exactly what this means just from looking at it.

now obviously, this is all up to speculation, but… here’s my take on this photo.

to start this off, i do believe that L genuinely likes solving cases. i believe it’s one of the only things in the world that engages his mind and keeps him from being depressed and listless 100% of the time.

but if i want to be angsty about it… do you think L is imprisoned, in a sense, to solving cases? cause like even if he couldn’t handle it anymore (he COULD. in character he could, i’m just saying the following as a realism hypothetical), he couldn’t just... stop.

yes, he has successors. but i headcanon that he didn’t form that program— that was all watari. the building for that orphanage is named “the wammy’s house,” after all. whatever watari did, whatever tactics, intimidation, and pressure he put on L to “hone” his detective skills… L doesn’t want another kid to go through that.

but they are.

and he’s too much of a coward to put an end to it.

and yes, i know, i KNOW that it’s hinted at in-series that no terrible shit happens at the wammy’s house. but have you SEEN this part of the “how to read” guidebook???

watari raises kids as detectives. for fun.

for fun.

i do NOT trust this man to be around kids, much less to raise one! he for sure abuses children, whether psychologically or physically (but like… in an old man way, like slapping a ruler against a kid’s wrist for a mistake).

for him to qualify as “cultivating kids as detectives,” i can easily imagine him putting child L through rigorous (not to mention relentless) training, to sharpen the mind. like HOURS of training, nonstop.

i think canonically (even if it’s not confirmed), L tends to sits motionlessly in rooms while doing cases due to hyperfocus. but then my brother pitched this one idea and it’s fucked me up.

“what if watari didn’t give L a chair to sit in while he was training him for hours? because as a kid, when he was sitting in his room, there wasn’t a single chair… what if L now sits like that all the time because he got used to it?”

.

bruh. D:

ANYWAYS, back on topic!!!

so watari is a wholly terrible person who put a child (L) through terrible mental exercises, right? right, that’s the headcanon we’re going with.

L is just an experiment. that’s ALL he is to watari, really. L is his most perfected invention. L has so much TRAUMA from the way watari “““raised””” him that his brain’s repressed ALL THE EVENTS. you know?? the conditioning is still hardwired into his system brain. his brain. but he doesn’t remember anything else from his childhood.

but whatever happened, L has a feeling that it was bad.

soooooooo, L is now “trapped” in his occupation, shackles of guilt and obligation holding him in place. he doesn’t want another person to hold an existence similar to his current one. he didn’t want that, he wasn’t aware of the creation of the wammy’s house, but it happened, and it’s all because he exists. additionally, he can’t just quit being L, the world’s greatest detective, because then who will solve these cases? who will serve justice to the lowest of the low in the world? (tbh a parallel to light and his resolve to become kira 🫢)

so L being arranged with a dark blue fish, of all things, for the photo (DARK BLUE. THE SAME EXACT FUCKING COLOR AS HIS INTERNAL MONOLOGUE LIGHTING, AAAAAAAAA) holds so much depth. deep down, he feels empathy for it. he understands. it’s not right. it’s not fair. but this is its purpose in this world— to sit still for the benefit of others who hold more power over it and its fate. what else can it truly do?

so,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

what a haunting image.

(as an aside, watari can be a character with such depth and limitless voids of depravity. follow my blog @fuckyouwatari for more hate posts of this decrepit man, but also i’m making up the headcanons that make me hate him so much lmao. join the “all my homies HATE watari” fanclub today!~ :D)

[rhiandoesfandom]

Chapter 12-Ultimatum

He stares at the door now with one bruised eye. Clenching and unclenching his fists. Stolas walks into the office sipping coffee and Blitz leans against the wall, looking down.

“Good morning, Blitzy”.

Notes:

I'm gonna be honest, this is gonna be all hurt, no comfort. Probably no comfort til the middle of part 3 lol. This is the last chapter of part 2. Part 3 of the series will start soon. TW: Non-consent, psychological manipulation, torture.

[victoria-vd]

OFFSCREEN POST

Fake Out

//tw psychological abuse

Victoria loved nothing more than a good sparring session with her bloodthirsty cousin Dante. Be it with weapons, with their minds, or with their Pokemon, a fight was always a great way for her to let out some of her pent up energy and frustrations. The sore bruises and aching muscles made her feel alive in a way that very few things did. It satiated a deep hunger within her— the hunger for blood, sweat, and battle.

She welcomed the exhaustion with open arms.

Resting upon one of the outdoor benches, Victoria wiped her forehead with a rag and bathed in the afternoon sunlight. Her battle-happy cousin had already stormed off in a huff after being beaten yet again, so Victoria was left alone to comfortably bask in the courtyard. She let out a pleasant sigh at the feeling of gentle sunbeams upon her face and crisp, fresh air against her skin. She was content to stay here for a few more minutes to cool down after an exhilarating fight.

A cane clicked against the outdoor tile floor. "Oh, there you are, Tori!"

Victoria titled her head backwards to rest against the top of the bench, unable to stop the corners of her lips from turning upwards a bit more than was necessary. Looking up at her friend, she hummed and said, "I was wondering when you would come looking for me."

Esper let out a huff of amusement. Setting her cane aside, she leaned her arms against the back of the bench right beside Victoria's head and tilted her gaze down to meet her eye. "Yeah, sorry, would have come sooner, but I was a bit occupied," she chuckled. "Your cousins sure do love whisking me away, huh?"

The girl clicked her tongue with a frown, "They haven't been causing you too much trouble, have they?"

"It's..." Esper's face scrunched up slightly as she she shot her friend a strained smile. "It's fine, they're fine, really. Don't even— Don't even worry about it."

"I can talk to them if they make you uncomfortable." Victoria squinted at her. "They won't bother you anymore."

"Nono, it's fine, really!" She waved her hands dismissively. "You don't have to go through all that trouble, Tori, really!"

"It's no trouble for me, Esp. Not if it's you."

Esper seemed to blink for a moment, seemingly flustered. Tapping her fingers against the bench, she laughed nervously and looked aside. "That reminds me, actually..." Unable to look her friend in the eye, she fidgeted with her hands and took a deep breath, "I— um, I actually came to talk to you about something..."

Victoria raised her head slightly, feeling something rise in her chest. Hope? Anxiety? Fear? She turned her head to give Esper her undivided attention. "Go on?"

"It's kind of embarrassing, really?" she laughed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. She then waved her hands in front of her and quickly added, "Not that it's, like, embarrassing to me or anything! I'm just— well— I..—" Her friend suddenly buried her face into her hands with a sigh. "Ach, this is so hard..."

The girl sat up straighter with a sharp inhale, a spark of hope igniting within her chest. Was Esper...? Surely not, right? Despite the numerous times she'd stated she saw Victoria as nothing more than a friend? She swallowed back a nervous lump in her throat. "Take your time."

Esper dragged her hands down her face with a groan, "Ugh, it's normally so *easy* to talk to you, but here I am suddenly clamming up!" Shaking her head, she shot her friend a glance and gave her a weak smile. "Nerves, am I right?"

All Victoria could do was nod dumbly. She knew exactly what she meant.

Slapping her hands against her cheeks to motivate herself, Esper took a deep breath and nodded reassuringly. "Right. I've got this." Turning to face Victoria directly, she continued, "I've been wanting to talk to you about this for... kind of a while now, actually. And after the last few days I've kind of... realized something?"

"About?" Victoria found herself leaning forwards without meaning to.

Her friend leaned away with a nervous laugh. "About you, funnily enough."

"Well, by all means," the fool encouraged, "please continue."

"Well," Esper twirled a strand of loose hair around her finger and shied away with a smile, "I just.... This is so hard to say out loud..."

Impatient words fell out of Victoria's lips before she could stop herself. "You can always project it into my mind if it'd be easi—"

The girl quickly shook her head. "Nono, this is something I have to tell you out loud. It wouldn't be right otherwise." Her face then suddenly brightened up in that brilliant way it always did, illuminating the courtyard with a grin that outshone the sun. "Okay wait! Idea! Come closer for a minute?"

Victoria wordlessly obeyed, moving herself closer to Esper. She could feel her friend leaning down towards her ear, her face radiating a warmth that left the girl dizzy.

Esper took a long breath and whispered, "I realized just how much I loathe you."

Something in Victoria shattered.

Her friend leaned back with a saccharine giggle. "It's honestly kind of embarrassing that you have a crush on me, Tori. I mean, really? You and me?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Please. You have a personality that only a mother could love."

How could she have been so foolish?

"You're not exactly a good person, Tori." Esper tilted her head at her with a small frown. "You're kind of an arse to everyone other than me, actually. How am I supposed to feel comfortable with that?"

It had been so obvious from the very start—

"Why should I get special treatment over, say, your brother? Why shouldn't I be afraid you might start treating me like you do him?"

—And yet her feelings made her blind to reason and reality.

"I do think that you could learn to be better, though!" Esper perked up. "Maybe then I might—"

Victoria suddenly reached a hand to grab the hilt of her sword and swung it directly into Esper's throat.

But the blade phased through her flesh as if it were air.

"Typical," the girl spat.

"Woah-hoh-hoh!" An amused man's voice echoed throughout the courtyard. From the shadows, Victoria's cousin Sebastián stepped out onto the outdoor tile with crossed arms, chuckling darkly. "If that's how you take rejection, maybe you really shouldn't ask her out!"

With a snarl, she immediately whirled around in a single quick motion and thrust her blade at her cousin.

The sword phased directly through his forehead with the same ease at it had the false Esper, flying through him and lodging itself into the pillar behind him. He made a show of looking back at where the sword had landed, turning to Victoria, and raising an eyebrow. "You don't really think I'm that stupid, right?"

"Could've fooled me," Victoria hissed.

Sebastián laughed as he snapped his fingers and pointed finger guns at her, "I just diii~id!" Putting his hands in his pockets, he tilted his head at her a little too far for any normal human and added, "Seriously though, way to immediately jump to trying to kill me at the drop of a hat. Should I be worried about a domestic violence case in the future?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Get therapy.”

"You first," he sneered back. "You're the one throwing swords at people's heads here, 'Toria—"

"Don't call me that."

"—I'm only trying to help you." He placed his hands on his chest with an exaggerated pout. "You really think this is the kind of behavior that Esper would like out of you? Get a little too angry at her and you give her the ol' Anne Boleyn special?"

Victoria gritted her teeth. "I wouldn't—"

"You wouldn't, huh? You sure have a funny way of showing it!" Sebastián stepped closer to his cousin with his hands on his hips. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you really want Esper to like you back, you need to start being, like, less of a shitty person. You may have her fooled with your preferential treatment or whatever, but she's not gonna like the way you treat everyone else like the dirt under your shoes." He leaned his back and rested his elbows along the top of the bench. "It may not seem like it, but I care about you, kid."

Looking him up and down, the girl furrowed her brows as she threw his words back at him. "You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Seb laughed. "I give you shit 'cuz I just want you to be a better person is all."

"You do it because you enjoy tormenting someone whom you believes deserves it."

"That too," he grinned proudly. "But hey, I'm not even asking you for an apology this time! ....Buuuuuut I'm definitely open to one if you're feeling like starting that little journey of yours to being less of a heartless piece of shit?"

Victoria silently narrowed her eyes at the man, growing more disgusted by him by the minute.

His smile dropped into a deadpan stare. "Yeah, I'm asking too much with that one."

Sebastián stretched and let out a nonchalant yawn. "Welp! Glad I finally got through to you after like, what, 9 years? Who knew all it takes is illusioning your best friend to get you to listen to me?" He gave his younger cousin a salute and grinned, "Good luck on your romance redemption arc, 'Toria!"

And he suddenly ceased to exist in the courtyard.

…Victoria did not Hate easily.

But the feeling she held in her heart was most certainly Hatred.

Scene End.

[espers-n-espurrs]

it sucks so badly your brother is a piece of shit because he is objectively a hottie. like solid 8 or 9. maybe 10 if im being generous. like i see why maple fell for him i would too if not for the fact he has the personality of a 3 apparently considering he tormented you for years

i.

[worst-mother-throwdown]

BRACKET 1

Round 1

Propaganda under the cut, but feel free to add yours in the reblogs

TW: child abuse, child abandonment, verbal abuse, physical abuse, psychological abuse

Mrs. Doofenschmirz propaganda

Ren Sohma propaganda

[snow-system-wol]

On gender, bodily autonomy, and being a Leveilleur -- concepts that are sometimes in conflict with each other, for Alphinaud.

(neither confirmed to be canon nor noncanon to S'ria's series.

Tw for some pretty psychologically questionable parenting.)

Very few things in Alphinaud's life were his. Most of his belongings were bought in matching pairs with Alisaie, something that he resented more over the years, and everything else seemed to be owned by the Leveilleur family itself. His room, once he had grown old enough to stop sharing with Alisaie, hardly felt his own. If he happened to leave it a touch too messy, it was clean the next time he returned – which gave few illusions about privacy.

He was glad that he had only complained about comparatively minor things in his journaling thus far, rather than about family, as it became clear that, well – he suspected someone was reading them. His mom always seemed to know just a bit more than she should about his social life. Alphinaud wasn't mad at her for worrying, he just… if nothing else, it was good incentive to improve some basic illusion magic. Wards would be suspicious, but looking like there was nothing to miss in the first place was not.

He'd still rather avoid writing anything down that is too sensitive.

Half the time his achievements hardly felt his own, many of his professors commenting on how he was doing his father proud with his academic success. (If he was, Alphinaud was the last to know. He wasn't sure anything of the like had ever been said out loud.) Was it so bad to want his teachers to recognize him on his own merits?

With all of that placed on him, it'd be easy to say the only thing of Alphinaud's that was truly his would be his body. That wasn't quite true though, was it? It'd never really been his, not since the gods decided it would be a fine trick for Alisaie and him to be exactly alike in body. Blessedly, she'd understood, and their parents had also been…reasonable.

Only reasonable though, no more than that. Mother continued to insist on their shared twin outfits – and while they weren't extensively feminine, maybe he'd be mistaken for Alisaie a touch less often if they were allowed to be more distinct. And Father… Alphinaud wasn't sure. He seemed glad to have a son as part of his legacy and was steadfast in referring to him as such. However, the one or two times Alphinaud had discussed anything that would actually affect his body it had been soundly rejected with little explanation. His parents seemed somewhat offended by the idea even.

Alisaie had suggested they just make do, try to get what he needed on the sly. Alphinaud had been very sure that anything above board would immediately get back to their parents and, if Sharlayan even had a medicinal black market, it certainly wasn't one that a few young teenagers would get very far in. Alphinaud had appreciated the effort.

Perhaps if he compiled more research on the safety and benefits of such things at his age, they would be convinced – and he could get started on that just as soon as this term lightened up a little bit.

A part of him worried they would not allow him to say his piece, even with all that.

And more pressingly, he was running out of patience. Alphinaud was getting a bit… he didn't have a good word for it, not really, but it was a sort of "crawling out of his skin" feeling. His friends were good about recognizing him, but if one more person called him by Alisaie's name or her pronouns… for the love of all that is good, that's what the different colored hair ribbons were supposed to at least help with. Alphinaud just wanted that to never happen again, anything was better. Even if there'd be consequences.

Alphinaud was feeling so impulsive that he nearly acted immediately, but he went to talk to Alisaie first. Not to hear her opinion (she'd likely support a little disobedience on his part anyway, and he wasn't looking for advice), but to give her a courtesy warning that there could be a familial problem.

Impulsivity did not suit him well, but this situation called for it – or perhaps his head was just not clear enough to think things through, just this once.

Alphinaud knew that hair did not mean much for gender – his and Alisaie's hair was more or less the same as their father's. Many men in Sharlayan had longer hair.

Many, but not the majority of them, though, and more importantly, he would no longer be mistaken for Alisaie ever again. He was a bit mournful, knowing he'd miss his hair.

(Alphinaud liked his hair, he didn't want to feel ashamed of it or feel like it was a hurdle between him and comfort. Honestly, he was surprised that Alisaie didn't offer to just chop her own hair off instead, for how much she complained about taking care of it. Oh, Mother would cry if she did, though.)

It was quick and clean. Leaving his hair tied and braided meant that there was little mess once it was chopped off. His head suddenly felt so light and he mourned it as much as it was freeing. Looking at the long braid in his hand, he felt his stomach drop. There was a giddy excitement in that he'd fixed a problem, but now he had an entirely new and incredibly imminent problem.

It did not take more than a few moments for Mother and Father to realize what he'd done, when he joined them in the dining room. She gasped, and Father's hand visibly tightened around his fork, and Alisaie avoided looking at anyone. Mother seemed about to protest and question Alphinaud, but Father abruptly standing and striding out of the room interrupted whatever thought may have been in her mind.

It was an excruciatingly quiet and rather brief dinner. Alphinaud found himself with very little appetite.

Any remaining desire to eat vanished completely when a member of the staff approached him near the end of the meal. He was informed that his presence was requested in his father's study, at his earliest convenience. Alisaie looked as though she wanted to stop him from going, but – what was the worst that could happen, aside from a somewhat harrowing conversation? Father had ever been the type to heal their injuries, not cause them.

That didn't mean the walk to the study was not terrifying. The door was already open and Alphinaud rapped gently on the doorframe before entering, trying not to do anything else that may break etiquette. Father bade him to sit across from him. Even both seated, he still towered over Alphinaud. Father stared at him with this intense scrutiny and he wondered whether anything was to be said or if he was simply meant to be judged until he broke and apologized for it himself. Father eventually relented, speaking in a tone that was nearly completely calm.

"For me, my appearance has even been a point of discipline. There is a dignity in it, showing the world that one is at least committed to their public perception, the diligence of putting in the extra effort to neatly braid one's hair every morning as one prepares to face the day. Are you ashamed of following my example in that? Unwilling?"

Alphinaud cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay steady. "That is not it, Father, I should be proud to look like you. The only matter that prompted this choice was having an identical sister."

"And this was so urgent that you could not settle it in discussion?" Alphinaud felt that there was no point in reminding him that he'd already tried, among other wishes he'd expressed. "Leveilleurs do not make impulsive choices, Alphinaud."

There was not much to be said to that – it was impulsive, Alphinaud knew that. He stayed quite still as Father stood from his seat, slowly making his way around Alphinaud's chair. He felt just the tiniest bit scared with Father fully in his blind spot, but equally felt silly for that fear. Really, there was nothing that had made it a rational response.

A hand was laid on the back of Alphinaud's head – gently, of course, only slightly startling for that moment. The rush of magic against his skin was warm and familiar, the same sensation of healing magic he'd felt for over a decade of bruises and scrapes and sprains.

Alphinaud was confused at what the point of that was, what Father was doing, until the near-painful prickling across his scalp made itself known. Ah. Healing magic could be used to rapidly speed the regeneration of flesh and bone, but that was not where its capabilities stopped.

Alphinaud felt the sudden urge to cry and decided that that would be the one response he would not allow before he left this room. It wasn't even that it hurt much, it was barely even uncomfortable – it just rendered all of the relief, all of the anxiety and worry, so completely pointless.

The flow of magic finally ceased and hands deftly returned his hair to a perfect braid, Father remaining wordless for this process. He took care not to cause any undue physical discomfort and that was almost worse.

Of all the responses Alphinaud was prepared for upon cutting his hair short, he had not expected Father to reject that decision so thoroughly that he would simply undo it.

Of course – very few things in Alphinaud's life were actually his, public appearance included.

[estranger-and-stranger-still]

At least you acknowledge that you are in the bad, that you are the rotten root that extended your plagues upon your sister, that what you touch; You hurt.

At least you are aware of that instead of trying to blame her or play the victim..

I am not the root. That would be my father.

You seem to forget, Anon, that I am also a victim of my father. And while that does not excuse the hurt I perpetuated as a child but you need to remember that I was also a hurt child.

I am not the root, I am the apple alongside my sister. A rotten apple but an apple nonetheless.