#anyway everybody please look at my blorbo. he's having a horrible time and i love him

[weidli]

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Erinnerst dich, Franz? Wie ihr als Ministranten im Sommer hier immer gezeltet habt? Er war damals ganz ein frommer. Einmal haben wir über Marienerscheinungen diskutiert, da haben deine Freunde gesagt, der Franz wird sicher bald auch noch welche haben, wenn er so weitermacht. 

udo wachtveitl as franz leitmayr in gefallene engel (1998), außer gefecht (2006) and wir sind die guten (2009), set to rammstein’s engel

[samson-draws]

This will be a ride, mentionings of the concept of *looks closely at the notes* sex and abuse. But not only, it's part of the whole cocktail that is Boston.

This guy.

Yeah, it will be a post about my very own, homemade blorbo. Buckle up. If you don't want to read about the stuff above, STOP READING NOW.

I can't with this character. I heavily use him as a therapy canvas, wondering what the fuck kind of memories I am repressing that are surfacing through a DnD character I played TWICE. It's raw but also feels weirdly good because I don't blame him for most shit that happened to him.

What kind of shit, you ask?

Boston, who originally was named Llewellyn by his mother, is the result of a fling between a fire genasi amd a white dragonborn. She found him cool, he found her hot, I guess. Anyway, his dad quickly turned his literal tail and fled, since the impulsive genasi woman scared him away. Neither of them knew she was already pregnant.

And oh boy, was she not ready to be a single mom - who can blame her? That's a challenge not everybody is up to. She tried to raise the boy, initially. But being a sensitive child, he felt her volatile moods, which caused him to be a scared, loud baby. This in turn annoyed his mother, who would mostly be cold, rash or entirely gone. Llewellyn was a sweet kid, who, as children do, supposed something had to be wrong with him.

At the age of four, he had no friends, since he looked quite different from the other children. Then, one night, his mother told him: "Look, I know this isn't your fault. You're still a kid, I'm the adult. As long as you're not an adult, I have to take care of you." So far she has come across like she didn't love him at all. However, in her own, unpredictable way, she did. He knew what she looked like when she smiled at him and he was naturally addicted to that.

So in order to make her happy, he left the house weeks later, supposing an adult is someone who leaves whenever they please. Unfortunately, being a little dreamer, he wandered off way too far and was unable to find his way back. This was what adults do, there was nothing to cry about. So he marched on and buried his terrible fear of being lost forever. His natural resistance to heat and cold somehow kept him alive, along with his keen senses and a talent for singing. Starvation, thievery and violence were his new normal, but he adapted. When he was 10, he was severely malnourished, a feral child with an unkempt, red mess of hair, dark bags under his eyes in a bony face and a first few scars on his frail body. His budding magical talent, though rare, was still weak and tended to anger the people around him, so he kept it hidden from the world.

Automatically, he felt drawn to physically strong people, even though most ignored, mocked or hurt him. He was eager to please and willingly bowed to those he deemed the strongest. These characters naturally pulled him in. When he became an adolescent and his voice broke, he quickly understood that most people found him bizarre, but also exotic. Since singing was no longer a viable income, he started using his body as commodity. He would wander from town to town, find someone to steal from or lie next to, enjoy something approximating intimacy and move on. I will spare you further details, but he was conditioned to regard being used for sex as the friendliest thing one could do for him. It became easy in time and would shape him in the following years. This peaked when he joined a criminal gang and would stop at nothing, not even himself, to please his boss. He felt his heart race whenever the boss was near him and was convinced it had to be love. For him, he would do horrible things - extort money, burn bodies, use himself as a shield to catch any attack launched against the boss. When he screwed up, or sometimes without reason, he was punished. As long as Llewellyn caught the tiniest smirk on the other's lips, he was ecstatic. It took him years to realize his blind hunger for love was used against him, when other, newer members of the group were suddenly preferred over him. In his shame, he left in the dead of night. This would have consequences.

In colclusion, his formative years were a mess. He was left with no sense of self-worth, a lack of identity, a fearful attachment style and no place to ever truly feel safe. This is not the end to his origin story, but it puts everything he does afterwards in perspective.

I don't know what I experienced in the past - or rather I do know, but have a hard time categorizing it - but I'm clearly working through something, though I did not share the exact same experience as my character. It is also not like I intended for him to have that backstory, it's more as if the story was just there.

I adore my character, not only for how much he survived, but also for how loving and fun he turned out, despite everything. Mind you, he is in his 30s and had time to work through some things. Maybe it is my own way of coming to terms with myself and everything I used to blame myself for.

Image: White writings and a white drawing of Boston in a box. Text:

Traumatized. Never remove from box! Pat his little head? (Ask first!) Tell him you love him (heart). Please feed. Just be there! Sometimes give space, always come back!