#tw psychological abuse

[sacrifical-lamb-core]

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.

[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.]

[treluna4]

Fan fic saved my life

TW: emotional abuse, coercion, control, intimidation, homelessness, psychological abuse, DV.

Today, I (through an attorney) served my abuser with a protection order. I entered the apartment I’ve been banned from for the last four years, took back what was rightfully mine, and left.

I’m free.

My life is mine again.

I never thought I would have to do something like this. Now that I have, I’ve come to realize that I’ve learned a lot of really hard life lessons from this fucked up experience. Here are a few of them:

What I’ve learned as a survivor of DV:

DV doesn’t just happen between family members or romantic partners. Your abuser can be a lifelong friend. Someone you have a shared history with. Someone who has helped you, supported you, loved you in the past.

Your abuser can be a disabled person.

Your abuser can have a chronic illness.

Your abuser can be financially dependent on you.

No abuser starts out that way. There’s a shift that happens over time, so gradually that it’s hard to know it’s happening until it’s too late.

My abuser gaslit the fuck out of me. She labeled me a monster, a villain, a sociopath, an abalist, because I didn’t empathize with her enough. No matter what I did, it was never enough for her. I was never enough.

And I believed her.

She convinced me that there was something deeply, inherently wrong with me. Something I must fix and change and grow from in order to be a good person again.

She convinced me she alone could fix those monstrous parts of me.

She convinced me that everyone else could see those parts too. That all my friends and family thought there was something deeply wrong with me. They just never said anything. Because I was an angry, violent person and they were all too scared to say anything. She reminded me, constantly, of all the ways which I was a failure.

Her relentless judgment and criticism changed me. It changed who I was and how I interacted with the world. I was scared of my own shadow. Scared of anyone in a position of authority. Terrified of ever doing anything wrong.

Trapped as I was in my circumstances, I became bitter and angry. Gone was the bright, happy person I’d been my entire life. It was wrong to be so happy, she said. No one is that happy all the time. It was time to grow the fuck up. Be an adult. And I agreed.

Caught up in my new mentality, I said things, did things, thought things that I will deeply regret for years to come. I was cold to people who didn’t deserve it. Rude for reasons I didn’t fully understand. I was trying to grow, just like she said. Trying to change. Convinced as I was that she was right. This is what it meant to be an adult. After all, no one is that happy all the time.

My newfound bitterness only proved her point. Of course I was a terrible person who never knew how to love people. Here’s the evidence! Obviously, what I thought was love had only ever been manipulation. She was right, after all. She was always right. I’d never truly loved anyone or anything.

I really was a monster.

It got to a point where I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I didn’t even want to look at my reflection. I didn’t want to face the broken shell of a person I’d become. I didn’t want to see what the rest of the world had always seen.

I stopped my spiritual practices. I didn’t want to face that uncomfortable truth that I was a failure. I was bad and wrong and terrible. So I hid the best parts of myself, to keep them away from the cruel person I really was.

I downplayed my queerness. I wore muted clothes and became a muted person. I fled from anything that might draw attention, anything that would warrant a comment. After all, she couldn’t attack something that no longer existed.

She made me question everything. Every single aspect of my life. She convinced me everything I’d ever known was a lie. I’d never actually done anything with a pure heart or good intentions. Everything I’ve ever done was a manipulation. A way to get everyone around me to do what I wanted them to. I was incapable of true, genuine love. What I felt was not love. It was a lie. Who I was, was nothing but a lie.

She told me I was a bad caregiver, and that I only ever made tough situations worse. She told me many times that I was emotionally unstable and should never be allowed to work with vulnerable populations. As someone who spent her life working with children and caring for others, this devastated me.

Despite all of this, she said she loved me. That she cared about me. She was simply telling me all of this for my own good, because it was her job to fix me. I had to stay with her, I had to continue to support her, until I could prove to her that I was mentally sound. Then and only then would she let me go. After all, she said, It wouldn’t be safe for her to let someone like me out in the world. It was her job to make sure I was healed first, so that I wouldn’t hurt anyone else the way I hurt her. That’s why I couldn’t leave her. I had to stay. I had to help her get better, since it was my fault she was ill in the first place. If I had been more emotionally stable, we wouldn’t have been in this situation and she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. So the only way out (for both of us) was for me to fundamentally change.

She constantly turned her abuse around on me. Whatever terrible things she said to me were justified. After all, she didn’t say anything worse to me than I once said to her. And since I obviously never cared about her, why should she care about me now? She was just matching my energy. Playing my game. I was actually the one controlling things here, and any misfortune was my fault, really. Any of my accomplishments were solely because of her, and all the work she put into making me a better person over the course of our decade + long friendship.

And I believed her. Always. Why wouldn't I? She helped me all those times before, right? Whenever I was at my lowest, she was the person I’d always turned to. She was always right back then, why should this time be any different? She was a good person. Kind. Brilliant. Not like anyone else is ever known. Surely that had to count for something.

Right?

Turns out, it’s not that simple. Just because someone helped you out before doesn’t mean they’re helping you out now.

If I could go back seven years, this is what I’d tell my 30-year-old self; fresh from a break-up. Lost. Scared. Vulnerable.

Write it down. Whatever she says, whatever she does, write it all down. You might not want to face it. You might not want to see how bad it really is, but write it down anyway.

A person who feels they have no control over their own life can find comfort in controlling yours.

No one ever anticipates finding themself in an abusive situation. There’s no planning for it or preparing for it. Even if you know the signs (and I knew all the signs), it can still happen to you.

If you don’t feel comfortable speaking up for yourself, if you can’t somehow say “no” to someone, it doesn’t mean you are a weak person, or that you’re doing anything wrong. It means you don’t feel safe around them.

Anything done “For your own good” rarely is.

You cannot be bullied into feeling empathy for someone. But that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of feeling empathy.

You are allowed to leave. You are not obligated to stay in a toxic situation, regardless of your past. And you are not a heartless monster for leaving someone, even if they are sick. There is nothing wrong with putting your health and safety above all else. That doesn’t make you selfish. That doesn’t make you a monster.

You’re allowed to be a full, entire person. You’re allowed to make mistakes. That doesn't mean you’re incompetent, or manipulative, or fucking ablist. It means you’re a person. A human being. And regardless of whatever mistakes you’ve made in the past, you don’t deserve to be treated this way.

We warn children about the dangers of keeping a secret. That doesn’t just apply to children. Do not keep her secrets. Do not keep her silence.

Isolation comes in many forms and each is toxic.

Do not isolate yourself. Talk to the people in your life. Let them in. Even if you think what you’re going through is not a big deal, even if you don’t wanna burden them. Even if you have trouble saying the words out loud. (Especially if you have trouble saying it out loud) Tell someone. Let your friends in. Let them help you.

You are not a burden.

Luckily for me, I have two incredible friends who helped me get out. Two people my abuser never knew about, because she told me to stay off of all social media. She told me fan fiction and fan spaces were bad for my mental health. It was childish for a grown woman to still be writing fan fic. Or acting in plays. Or listening to musicals. Or doing any of the many things that brought me so much joy, in my life before her.

Thank god I didn’t listen. At least, not for long.

Because two of my pocket friends that I met ON THIS VERY HELL SITE are the reason I’m free today.

@celeritas2997 and @statueinthestone . None of this would have happened without you two. I love you both so much.

Cee taught me what it looks like to support someone who is not ready to leave. When I finally worked up the nerve to tell her what was going on, she listened. She didn’t judge. Instead, she gave me the resources I needed to get out and encouraged me to seek help, without ever once shaming me for not being ready.

And it took me a very long time to be ready. But she never once demeaned me for it. She waited SO patiently, and listened whenever I shared new details of my abuse with her. She continued to suggest I get help, and when I chickened out again and again, she was still there. She never gave up on me. When I finally took her advice and reached out to the resources she suggested and started the process of leaving my abuser, she celebrated with me. She never once said “I told you so”.

Thank god I finally listened to her.

Jesi. Fuck. Jesi helped me in so many fucking ways, but none more so than this: she taught me that not everyone shows love the same way, and that’s okay. Just because the way I show love is different from what others expect or demand from me, it is in no way less valid. Thr way I love is valid. The way I love is enough.

I am enough.

Beyond the emotional lessons, this experience taught me a whole host of other things as well. For almost four years now, I’ve been homeless. I’ve been living in my car while my abuser lived in my apartment. I paid for her rent, food, medications, clothes, household items, streaming service subscriptions. (Streaming services I was forbidden to use, by the by. Because. You know. Mental health. I didn’t listen to this either. 😂)

And it was no big deal! It made sense, really, to do all this for her. After all, she was sick. And she was my best friend. She had already sacrificed so much for me. She was a good person who’d been dealt a shitty hand. She’d NEVER take advantage of me.

Right?

And anyway, I wasn’t really homeless. I CHOSE to live in my car. It was the right thing to do. That apartment was so tiny and she was so, so sick. And I’d always wanted to live a nomad lifestyle! I got bored living in apartments. That’s why I moved around so much in my life before her. Living in my car just made sense. It’s what I wanted.

Right?

Being homeless has taught me so much, not just about myself, but i e picked up a lot of car living life hacks. Here are a few of them:

You can work two jobs and still be homeless.

Like abuse, homelessness can look like many things. It’s not just that one stereotypical image that pops in your brain when you hear the word. To this day, my employers have no idea I’m homeless, and I’ve been working for them for two years.

Battery powered anything is a godsend.

Public restrooms are an absolute necessity for all of society. I will forever and always be grateful for them, especially for public park restrooms that are open all year round.

There are certain places where sleeping in a car is legal, and many places where it’s not. Familiarize yourself with your local laws. Be safe.

There are at least 20 different meals you can cobble together from the prepared food section at any grocery store with about $10 and a little creativity.

Quarantining with Covid sucks. Quarantining for 5 straight days in a car sucks absolute dickhole. (That said, doordash will deliver directly to your car and leave the bag on the hood, if you ask nicely)

Wet wipe showers are 100% a real thing and are a good solution in a pinch, but NOTHING beats a hot shower. Absolutely nothing. (I can’t wait to have a bathtub again.)

Stuffing 4-6 Hot Hand packets in the bottom of a thick sleeping bag will go a long way to keeping you warm on subzero nights.

For curtains: crack open a window, stick the edge of a sheet through, and close the window again. Repeat as necessary.

For sleeping, if possible: remove the headrest from the front passenger seat and lower it completely until it reaches the back seat for an impromptu L-shaped bed.

Try not to sleep in the same position every night. Your body will thank you later.

Always keep at least one window open a crack, even in the winter. Condensation leads to mold.

If you take a second job working nights, know that it is fucking impossible to sleep in a car on a hot fucking summer day when you can only open the window a fucking crack (for the sake of safety). You will wake up in the afternoon gross, smelly and drenched in sweat.

Gym memberships are an absolute must.

Beyond that, I’ve also learned the importance of setting boundaries, and that not only is it okay to say “no” it’s essential. I’ve learned you’re not selfish for wanting to leave a toxic situation. I’ve learned that freedom can be taken from you, but that you can take it back. And above all, I now know one thing with absolute certainty:

You cannot be broken.

You. Cannot. Be. Broken.

No matter what happens to you, no matter how they try, they will NEVER break you.

Abuse can lead you to forget, for a while, who you are, and you might need to lock up certain parts of yourself temporarily for the sake of your own survival.

But one day.

One day.

You will hit the point where you have had enough. And on that day you’ll find that she was always there. With you. The whole time. The person you truly are was with you all along. She never left. She’s simply been waiting for you to need her again.

And on that day, that glorious day when you truly wake up, your entire life will change. Even if you can’t leave yet, when you realize the full weight of what is happening to you, when you realize the truth, you let the hope back in. And every step you take toward your goal from there on out, every step toward your freedom, will be all the sweeter for it.

You will doubt yourself, of course. Even after you choose to leave, even as you prepare and plan, you will doubt yourself.

She’ll be so angry if I go. So hurt. Can I really do that to her? She’s sick. She needs me. She doesn’t have anyone else. Can I really hurt her? I’ve hurt her so much already.

What if it’s not actually as bad as I think? Maybe I’m just being dramatic. Maybe I should try harder. Be better. Maybe I can save us.

She’ll come after me if I leave. She said so. She’s going to make me pay for what I’ve done to her. What if she makes good on her threats? What if she makes my life hell?

What if she was right?

What if she was right?

Can I really do this?

It’s natural to second guess yourself, especially on the “good” days. The days after a big blow up. When it seems like she’s moved on and conversations between you are normal again. Or as normal as they’ll ever be. Especially in those moments, you’re going to doubt yourself. That’s okay.

Doubt yourself. Do it anyway.

And in those particularly low moments, reach out to the people who truly love you and try to believe their reassurances, even when that feels impossible. Seeking help from your friends is not manipulation. There’s nothing wrong with needing guidance or validation. Especially not now.

I’m free. I’m finally free and I feel elated and giddy…and also scared. She told me multiple times in no uncertain terms that she was going to spend the rest of her life getting back at me for all the pain I caused her (and that was before I left).

But I’m also, surprisingly, sad. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to get to the point where I would have to press charges against my former best friend in order to escape her. I loved her. I never wanted to hurt her. This is her absolute worst nightmare and I take no pleasure in making that happen.

But I have no regrets. I am a fucking human being with a good heart, free will, and some semblance of self respect. I don’t deserve to be treated this way. I have the right to protect myself and she’s made it clear, this is the only way I can do that. It’s sad, yes, but it had to happen. And after all, she has been threatening to do the same thing to me for years!

For at least two years now, she’s been saying that if I didn’t start giving a shit about her, she was going to have me arrested for abuse of a disabled person. She was going to have me placed under a conservatorship, or admitted to a psychiatric facility due to my mental and emotional instability. She said she was going to tell everyone I once loved what a terrible person I am, spread my secrets far and wide, among so many other threats, all intended to keep me in line.

It was an effective strategy. For a while, at least.

Leaving is painful. And scary. And sad. And quite possibly the most difficult thing I've ever had to do.

But it was necessary. And it was worth it. Oh my god it was SO fucking worth it!! I’m free. And my freedom is worth fighting for.

There’s a lot I still don’t know. I’m going to need a lot of time and therapy to feel like myself again, but in spite of all this, as I look at the boxes of my belongings I managed to rescue from the apartment I haven’t been allowed to enter in four years, I feel like I won.

I won.

I got my life back.

As hard as this was, never have I felt more hope for the future as I do right now. There is so much I want to do! So much I CAN do now! I have incredible friends I want to make things for. I have a beautiful cat (Vayda) I need to meet one day.

I’m going to get that haircut I always wanted, but never got for fear of ridicule (too queer). I’m going to get another tattoo, I’m going to travel, and soon, I’m going to have my own place again. For the first time in almost a decade. A small apartment just for me. A sanctuary.

I’m going to have a real bed again. And a kitchen. I’m going to take bubble baths and bake cookies and keep a toothbrush in an actual toothbrush holder and clothes in a real dresser instead of in a plastic tub in the trunk of my car. I’m going to have an herb garden and hang a bird feeder outside my window.

Hopefully one day I’ll even get a cat myself. A pet I can pour all my love into because I have love to give. I have so much love to give and the freedom to truly give it now.

My life is bright and full of possibilities again and none of that, not one single shred of the happiness I feel now would have been possible without fan fiction.

Fan fic gave me a community, when I was forced into isolation.

Fan fic gave me refuge on the long days when I couldn’t escape her relentless criticism.

Fan fic kept me warm when my windows were crusted over with frost.

Fan fic gave me lovely comments from lovely readers that kept me going. Words that told me maybe I wasn’t so worthless after all.

Fan fic has been my home, my one remaining source of joy, my tiny act of rebellion.

I’ve spent a lot of time already reminding myself of what is true and what isn’t. There’s a lot there left to sift through. But the greatest truth of my life is, and I’m not being hyperbolic when I say this:

Fan fiction saved my life.

[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.

[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.

[tatumsversion13]

TW physical, mental and sexual abuse

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.

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[kiarabanetmi]

“Poison” and how it speaks to all types of abuse

Hi there! I’m posting again. This is a small analysis/commentary on how the song Poison from Hazbin Hotel describes not just sexual and drug abuse, but other types of abuse as well. If you haven’t seen Hazbin Hotel or haven’t heard the song, I’ve put a link to the song below. Even if you don’t watch the show the song is amazing and I highly recommend it. Note: this is not the official episode music video, which is triggering to people, this is the before episode release version.

I also made another post earlier on my opinions on episode 4 of Hazbin Hotel. Give it a read!

Ok, so I’m going to cover some very specific lines and moments in the song. The majority of my analysis focuses on verse two and the the final verse.

This song at its core is about abuse. Angel Dust’s type of abuse is a combination of largely S/A along with physical and verbal Abuse by his pimp Valentino. But if you analyze these lyrics, this song speaks to all types of abuse and abuse victims and/or survivors, except for a few lines that are highly specific depending on situations. I’m going to focus on how this song can speak to domestic abuse victims, myself specifically. If you do not feel comfortable hearing about the following triggers then please scroll on and have a good day. You have been warned.

So context before I get into this: I was raised with a mentally ill parent as well as victim of my other parent’s former Fiance who also verbally and emotionally abused but the two of us. My mentally ill parent suffers from untreated unconventional borderline personality disorder, known as BPD. My other parent’s ex Fiance suffers from grandiose narcissistic personality disorder, known as NPD. I am no longer in contact with the ex Fiance and have no plans to see them ever again. However, I am still suffering from my parent with BPD, specifically over the holiday. We had a major fight because they believe my other parent is truly the abuser in their reality and by taking their side, I was starting to abuse them as well. This has caused me to (at least temporarily) cut off the unhealthy parent and live with the other one full time. And the unhealthy parent is a master at verbal, emotional and psychological manipulation.

Now getting onto the actual song:

Whenever I listen to the back half of verse 1 into the first chorus, I really relate to the lyrics through personal experience. It starts at the following line:

“I shoulda known that this would happen,

“I shoulda known it when I looked into your red-hot eyes

“Spewin’ all your red hot lies”

Now let’s go back to the lyrics and how it relates to me. As part of their BPD, this is especially true, and true for those who are involved with family/spouses/loved ones who are verbally and emotionally abusive. I believe any person who has different under an abuser will relate to this simple like. At some point we know the pattern, we know the signs for when we “fucked up” as it were. And we know at some point, consciously or unconsciously, that our abuser is lying.

“What’s the worst part of this hell?

“I can only blame myself.”

This line can be relatable depending on the type abuse you suffer from. In Angel’s case, he signed his soul away (literally) to his abuser. In a way I do that with my abuser every time I choose to go see them and enter that unhealthy environment. The problem for me personally is that BPD does have patterns but I find myself surprised and shocked by them. Know that now I am doing research to try and learn how to properly deal with family members with BPD, but that personality disorder does not excuse the abuse I suffer from t I’ll his parent. Mental illness is NOT an excuse for inflicting abuse, even if it’s as complex or rarely treated like BPD. But every time I go back into that environment I can only blame myself for entering that hell willingly again. Because despite the pain I know they will inflict upon me at some point, I still love my abuser. I imagine this is a similar mindset to what other victims of domestic abuse feel as well. We walk back to our abusers, usually choosing to because we still love our abuser and hope they’ll change and this time they’re telling the truth.

But that’s usually not the case.

“Cause I know you’re poison,

“You’re feeding me poison

“Addicted to this feeling I can’t help but swallow up your poison

“I made my choice and

“Every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow.”

In my situation I relate to this line INCREDIBLY hard. It’s not just my unstable parent who is abusive. That side of my family has a long cycle of generational abuse that I am trying to break away from. But because I grew up in that situation, despite now knowing how bad and unhealthy it is, it’s what I’m used to. And unfortunately, I am used to or addicted to that chaos. For the past few months I have lived with my healthier parent and during that time, I have developed a non-chaotic, healthy lifestyle. Growing up everything was constantly shifting and changing based on the needs/wants of my unhealthy parent, since I was predominantly in their custody in my youth. Because of this, I grew up used to that chaos, considering it normal and fine, until I was shown another alternative by my other parent when they filed for custody and finally got rid of their own abusive fiancé. But because of the way I grew up, I became used to the chaos, and every time I go back to visit my abusive parent, I run the risk of falling under their spell. And unfortunately, more often than not, I do fall for it. And when I do fall for it, I fall into survival mode once again. This means that in a sense I’m “living like there’s no tomorrow”, like Angel. I don’t think about the consequences of anything other than escalating the situation, of making sure I make it out of there without some sort of fight or confrontation.

“I got so good at being untrue,

“I got so good at telling you what you want to hear,

“I disassociate disappear”

When I enter this survival mode, as I’m sure many other abuse victims and survivors do, I tend to lose myself for a time. I become someone else in order to be who my abuser wants me to be. In my personal case, I end up regressing to a smaller helpless child (not literally, but my body language does, as an unhealthy form of self soothing, being untrue and becoming who they want me to be: someone they control. I tell them what they want to hear, usually that they are right or that their pain is valid and nothing is their fault because they are the victim (which in my parent’s case of BPD is a reality that they ACTUALLY believe). Half the time when my abuser parent is tearing into me or trying to make me feel guilty or into he the bad guy (with depressingly frequent success rates), I tend to enter a sort of humble stage. I disassociate until it’s my turn to speak. I disappear for a while until it’s safe to come back out and say or do something. And when I do disassociate it’s awful. I lose small chunks of time. This has not happened yet outside of these instances of interaction with my abuser, thank goodness, but it is still dangerous to disassociate too often. I’m sure survivors of all types of abuse have disassociated at least once in their time with their abuser.

“So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.”

Since I grew up so used to this behavior and pattern, it is like fighting my own nature to try to stand up and not fall for the lies. It’s so hard because I still love my abuser but because of their illness and their refusal to acknowledge it or seek real treatment this pattern is unending. It’s hard to resist swallowing down the poison they force in my face and flood me with. In my case, unlike Angel, my form of poison is in a pool, slowly raising towards my mouth, and I struggle not to get it not. And I imaging that’s what most other victims of abuse also feel like. That physical, emotional, sexual, psychological abuse is a poison that if left unchecked or stayed near to long will eventually kill us, either minor abuser’s action or our own.(Note, at the end of this post I have posted links the contact information of various services to help people in these situations, at least for those in the United States). Angel’s situation is also like that too, but he’s also drugged and forced to take poison by Valentino.

“My story’s going to end with me dead from your poison.”

This line hit me hardest out of everything in the song. During the latest fight with my parent, they tore into me overall and so brutally that for the first time in my life, I truly contemplated suicide as a better alternative. The verbal and mental poison they fed me for so long overwhelmed me and I felt myself wanting to die from it. I am not suicidal now, but it was an overwhelming feeling of pain, hopelessness, feeling trapped with no escape (at one point literally when I threatened to go drinking and they blocked the door, which is a tricky situation). If I hadn’t gotten out of then not already had the support system in place that I spend years setting up and learning to build, I may not be making this post right now. And there’s thousands of others like me who are still stuck in that pool of poison, but have already choked too much and succumbed to it. Never forget them.

“Poison, I’m sick of the poison,

“Im filling up my glass but it’s always hollow

“Full of poison, I’m sick of the poison,

“Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.”

And like Angel here, I’m sick of the poison as well, and every other abuse victim of any type can relate to this. At some point nothing helps anymore when you are stuck in the situation long enough. There’s no escape, and everything is hollow. There was a time when I was like this as well. My abuser had isolated me from nearly everyone else in my life save for my healthy parent, and it nearly broke me. But I found a reason to live for tomorrow at the time.

And I hope you can too. If you are reading this and relate to my story, or you heard this song and related to it in some way, then please know you are not alone. This song is not just a bop, it’s a real look at the kind of a severely abused victim that we don’t always see.

If you or your loved one are being by abused in some way, you are not alone. Here are some resources if you are in danger and need to call for help:

The Suicide Hotline: 988

The National Domestic Abuse Hotline:

The National Sexual Assault Hotline:

Adult Children of Alcoholics and Dysfunctional Parents

[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)

[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.

🐦‍⬛

[blitzsicedcoffee]

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.

[ninjagrace]

what’s ur favorite scenario to dream about with mtsk and death (kou dying, specifically)

YOU. YOU GET ME.

i’m gonna start this off with saying that kou minamoto is literally my favorite character ever so don’t think i’m doing this because i hate him i just think about him way too much and this is where i end up after thinking for too long

i have SO MUCH to say about this but i’m gonna throw it under the cut bc i don’t wanna catch ppl off guard with my insane bullshit

if ur reading this and u get upset it’s ur own fault /hj

alright SO

first off kou definitely should’ve died during the pp arc just for shits and giggles. it would’ve been like a “what the fuck just happened” for every character and the whole fandom and the chaos that would’ve ensued from the death of a major character would’ve been absolutely WILD- like bitch just killed himself. he straight up committed suicide. there’s no way of rephrasing that bc that’s what he did. it would’ve been a plot-shattering moment and really just heartbreaking and awful and aidairo could’ve done so much with it.

for one, mitsuba would’ve been very Not Ok because he would’ve blamed himself for kou dying and he’d definitely try to gaslight himself into believing kou was still alive- that would not work btw he’d just be in insane denial

anyway imma move on from that arc even though i could go into it so much deeper and focus on things that i could see happening just to make the story hella interesting (i’ve been very tempted to write a fic about this so beware)

i think the most likely ways kou would die would either be suicide or being killed by tsukasa. we’ve already seen him attempt to kill himself, thwarted by mitsuba then brushed aside for some reason, and i’m about to do a full ass analysis on why tsukasa should murder our boy :3

reiterating that I LOVE KOU MINAMOTO WITH MY WHOLE HEART HES PERFECT

okay so tsukasa. hes a silly guy. one of his main traits is he loves to fuck with people, right? right yeah whatever get to the point IM WORKING ON IT ok sorry anyway he’s silly right. he thrives off fucking people up as much as possible. since he knows fucking everything i’m gonna assume he knows how important kou is to mitsuba and, given the fact that it’s so easy to fuck with mitsuba, he’d know that messing with kou in some way would make the biggest impact. every way he messes up mitsuba’s (after)life doesn’t emotionally impact him for too long, given the fact that he and kou with it out every time. but what happens when we take out the support system? that’s what we wanna know.

so ofc tsukasa feels all silly goofy and takes out kou just for funzies. mitsuba is absolutely fucking destroyed in every way. he blames himself, duh. this splits off into 2 possible scenarios that i’ve created lol.

possibility one: mitsuba stays in his boundary for god knows how long, refusing to talk to anyone. eventually he goes to shijima, begging for a replacement kou. even if hes fake, it’s better than nothing, right? shijima understood his grief, in a way. so, she gave in. boom. kou copy. the rest was none of her business.

kou copy only knows what shijima knows about him, so let’s go with everything up until the end of the picture perfect arc. he has no idea about anything after, including the aquarium date, the far shore incident, and the supernaturals being banished from the near shore in the first place, and it’s fine that way. …right? well, that means he also doesn’t know that he’s supposed to be dead.

he keeps asking mitsuba when he can leave the boundary and go home, when he can go see senpai, when he can see his brother, and he’s very upset. mitsuba has no idea what to do. he was overjoyed to have his crush best friend back that he didn’t even think of what would happen after… he couldn’t let kou out of the boundary. that was out of the question. keeping kou here would make him miserable and make him hate mitsuba. so at this point they’re stuck in a cycle of shouting matches of wether or not kou is allowed to leave, periods of silence, and occasional truces because they both need someone to keep them sane, and who else can do it but each other?

possibly 2: supernaturals are a thing in this world, so why can’t kou be one too? even though tsukasa is the one who killed kou in the first place, mitsuba begs him to bring kou back, to make kou a supernatural just like mitsuba. mitsuba knows what being a supernatural feels like. he knows that just letting kou go would be so much better for the dumb blonde boy. he knows that kou deserves better than to be forced to live in a world that doesn’t want him anymore. but mitsuba is selfish. so tsukasa makes kou into a supernatural. for funzies, you know? he’d never worked with a human corpse before, so why not try out making one into a supernatural?

the process of making a supernatural is… messy. mitsuba now knows this, as he couldn’t look away from his boyfriend being made into one. it was horrific. i’m not gonna delve into it because i really don’t wanna think about that i’m so sorry my poor baby

just like with mitsuba, tsukasa didn’t have kou’s actual soul to work with, just supernatural parts and kou’s body. it was simply an animated puppet that looked like kou minamoto. “it’s fine,” mitsuba said, “it’s okay, he’s back, that what matters, right?” “it’ll be fine, right minamoto?” and as he looks to kou for support, all he gets in response is a blank look. he realizes, after staring in horror at the jagged scar on kou’s neck, that his vocal chords are absolutely fucked up beyond repair. he’d never hear kou’s voice again.

thanks for reading and i’m so sorry <3

[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

[the-axolotl-skellie]

Toothless.

This... turned out darker than expected ^^"

Tw for implied CSA, bulimia, purging/vomiting, self starvation/refusing to eat, trauma, gross food, food trauma, food issues, psychological torture, obsession with control!

☽️Reblogs appreciated!☾️

The man who spoke in hands had his ways of getting want he wanted. Rather that be sexual pleasure or an unnecessary experiment. And Lune never got what they wanted, rather it be their consent or their opinion heard.

But Lune was rebellious.

So there were punishments.

The man who spoke in hands would purposefully only serve a dish he knew Lune had a negative reaction to. For whatever reason, the 'creature' would rather starve themself than consume it.

So Lune stopped being rebellious.

They gave in.

There was a time though, when the man who spoke in hands realized that a self inflicted punishment was not a punishment at all. He couldn't let Lune get their way by obeying him, and therefore getting served their regular meal.

So he decided if he gave the food, they would eat it.

...

After three days, Lune eventually gave up their protest, choking diwn the disgusting mush in order to not die of hunger.

And later that night, they ended up vomiting it up. That was one of the first times Lune had experienced vomiting.

It was freeing. Something... about not having that in them anymore, was librarianship to them. Like the man had not gotten his way. Like Lune won.

And so that day, food became another reminder of their lack of control. Lune needed food, but they didn't want it.

As years passed, and after they were taken in by Lust, it was still a thing that haunted them.

Anytime they had to sit down and eat, their mind immediately associated it with punishment, even if the food itself was fine. Anytime they had to eat it, their mind associated it with a lack of control.

Thry didn't like that, even if they didn't fully understand it.

And one time, Lust made refried beans, which, absolutely set Lune off into what could be described as a full blown meltdown. Because they didn't want that, but they didn't know why so they didn't communicate why.

So Lust was scrambling to try and calm down Lune, who eventually fled from the dinner table to the bathroom. The bathroom was a safe place, with water and privacy.

Running the bathtub wasn't an option though, they hadn't figured out how to turned it on. So that was just making their day more shitty.

Eventually they just started sobbing. Everything was bad today, everything! The food, the lack of swimming, lack of control, everything!

And then they felt sick again.

And that reminded Lune of an old trick they learned with the man.

And that they hadn't used it here, because there wasn't a reason to rebel again Lust, he was just trying to help...

But this helped too.

Lune had mildly calmed down, and crawled over to the toilet, peering inside.

Lust wasn't even in their thoughts by the time they did it. Raised two webbed skeleton fingers. The time they started purging. Amd even if they had been thinking of their current caretaker, this wasn't anything against Lust.

This was against food.

[traumatizedjaguar]

BECAUSE manipulators make friends with other manipulators or liars with other liars or abusers make friends with other abusers because when one of them hates somebody the other abuser will too and they do this because abuser 1 needs the help to enhance their lies and smear campaigns so abuser 2 helps out because abuser 2 knows when they need help to lie on their victims character abuser 1 will of course help out. Bullies bounce off of each others lies and bullshit all the time; when one bully makes up a rumor that Jennifer is a peeping Tom, then another bully will see their bullshit and wanna help by going, “Oh yeah! I already knew that about Jennifer, I caught her peeping once!” Because bullies bounce off of each other’s bullshit together. It enhances their smear campaign because they know they can rely on each other for help in their own personal situations with whatever truths they’re trying to hide or cover up; every abuser who’s angry at themselves or saving their reputation and trying to cover up a truth will need a scapegoat. I was just watching videos on YouTube of fake mediums being called out and in one of the videos there were like 3 fake mediums in one room and all 3 would bounce off each others shit like one would say “I feel a boy here age 10 who died in this room” and then the other fake will go “oh yeah I felt that too! He was murdered!” And then so on and so forth.