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#cw: abuse
badaziraphaletakes · 3 days
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Okay, this one made Crowley MAD
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"I'm sure Crowley is worried it will take Aziraphale falling"
No, no, no, a thousand times no. Trauma is not necessary for character growth. And Crowley knows that. Crowley knows nothing good came of his fall. He knows it shouldn't have happened and didn't benefit him in any way or make his life any better. He knows he was a good person before the fall and he knows he still is now. He knows he and Aziraphale have both always been good.
He knows Aziraphale has done nothing wrong. He knows his angel didn't create their situation. He certainly knows Aziraphale can't fix it by somehow thinking himself into a different headspace. He knows Aziraphale can't free them by mentally torturing himself over his opinions on heaven.
And there is no "it will take". Aziraphale doesn't "need a push" (I find the implications of the violence-adjacent language troubling, incidentally. A push is non-consensual). He doesn't need to change in order for their situation to be fixed. He just needs heaven to leave him and Crowley alone and stop ab*sing them. Crowley knows Aziraphale has done nothing wrong. Crowley knows he is just as much of a victim as he is.
So why can we, the fandom, not understand that????
Stop blaming victims. Stop psychoanalyzing why you think they are contributing to their own ab*se. That is not how it works. STOP POLICING VICTIMS' THOUGHTS ABOUT THEIR AB*SERS. How can I say this any plainer?
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mosovi-vian · 10 months
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And I will stay alive for my future self, so they can one day learn to be kind to who I was as a child. And I will teach them to honor who we used to be, so they can remember the comfort of what once was our untempered flesh and gentle soul. Me and myself are each a fresh wound and a rough scab, bearing respectively the gift of green faith and honed will.
This has been in my draft for a while because I was determined to post this only after I knew what I should write underneath it. I’ve read a lot on the concept of healing the wounded inner child since even before my c-ptsd diagnosis. However, I’ve sought as much comfort in my little self as they had in me. Looking back, I was an impressively emotionally-intuitive kid. I remember well how I used to think, the things I would write to my future self; they were wiser and gentler than I could ever hope to be as an adult. Needless to say, the little poem above is inspired by the aforementioned experience. Sure, big me is armed with a more developed pre-frontal cortex and access to invaluable resources (coping mechanisms, therapy, on and offline communities) , but I struggle to rediscover/reinvent my identity. Little me was the biggest vestige of my lost personhood. So yeah, this might be just a huge self-indulgent projection with my favorite character, but thinking that post-S3 Hunter would also be in my shoes is not completely baseless. 16yrs old Hunter is the fresh wound (a lot of things happened before his teen years, but I’m going to interpret the events of Hollow Mind - which happened when Hunter was 16 - as the ultimate boiling point in his trauma timeline, hence the ‘fresh wound') and 20yrs old Hunter is the rough scab. Each version of Hunter could be dealing with a different set of trauma-induced symptoms. I think his loyalty to Belos kept him going as a child. Being doubtless was important to Hunter back then; it held his sense of self together. And maybe when he survived and was rewarded the time and space to grow into his own person and live for himself, there was this lasting emptiness. I feel this sort of emptiness even today. My only reference of what ‘wholeness’ felt like was when I was obedient to my family. I equated self-abandonment as the righteous norm. The symptoms I deal with today are definitely different from when I was Hunter’s age pre-time-skip. Now that Hunter is in a safe space and an adult post-time skip, he might also need to seek that strength from his younger self. Reminding himself of how far he’s come and the parts of him that he'd like to keep from his past. The parts that he knows in his bones are purely his - not instilled by Belos, not inherited from Caleb.
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dwellordream · 3 months
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- Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House
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tfone4one · 2 months
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"I was far too scared to hit him / But I would hit him in a heartbeat now. / That’s the thing with anger. / It begs to stick around." - Sam Fender, Seventeen Going Under
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Last Updated: 18 March 2024
Pairing(s): Neighbor!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Single Mom!Reader Summary: After leaving your abusive husband, you and your 17 year old son, Tommy, move to the U.K. from the U.S. for a fresh start. He's less than enthusiastic to be moving countries, having to be the new, weird American kid on the block. He's even less enthusiastic about his new neighbor who seems to be making moves on his mother. Rating: Mature/Restricted - MDNI; Ageless Blogs DNI Categories: HEAVY ANGST- PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers CWs: descriptions of violence via domestic abuse, child abuse, and sexual abuse at the hands of the reader's previous relationship - i.e. there are scenes in which the reader is described as being beaten and raped by her ex-husband (briefly mentioned/implied) and there are also scenes in which Tommy is beaten by his father; illegal age gap between reader and her previous partner - DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT; Simon's original backstory/comic backstory; eventual smut - unprotected PinV; this list will expand as the story is written. Note: COMING SOON *indicates smut - MINORS AND AGELSS BLOGS DNI
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MAIN PLOT
Original Concept | Chapter One: Tommy |
EXTRAS
[ERROR - NONE WRITTEN]
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kriimhild · 22 days
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Next DD webcomic! (poll at the end of the post)
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Hear me scream
Moon's glitches are getting worse, and now they trigger a drastic incident. Consumed by guilt, he separates himself from Sun, afraid of he'll harm him. However, he accidentally flees to a place that neither of them knew existed in their own headspace. The owner of the void awaits him, impatiently tapping his pocket watch. Moon tries to escape back to warn Sun.
Pages: 20+
Content rating: Mature!
Content warning: gore, blood, angst, torture, abuse
How to play along (After the events of We've gone too far)
After Nigel threatens the celestial duo about they could lose their supervisor if rebellious thoughts arise, Sun must face one of the biggest decisions of his life. Should he tell Frankie everything and risk their lives, or should he collaborate with Nigel and learn to lie for the best?
Pages: ~10-20
Content rating: Mature!
Content warning: angst
If you can't vote here anymore, click this link, you can still here!
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Fragile Apologies (Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Gn! Reader)
Content notes: minor spoilers for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, unhealthy/abusive relationships, verbal & emotional abuse, physical intimidation & violence, minor injuries, implied future imprisonment
Word count: around 4k
Short summary: You thought it would be easy to leave your dying relationship with Miguel. This turned out to be not true.
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The sun was setting. It cast a long, orange beam on the wall, and you slowly followed it with your eyes as it advanced, gradually fading.
You purposely didn't look at the clock on the wall, you didn't want to know how much time had passed since Miguel decided to pull you onto his lap, not caring that you were right in the middle of preparing dinner. You were relieved you had not boiled the water in advance. You were not sure if the kitchen would burst into flames by the time your boyfriend lets you go.
Miguel's arms wrapped around you like iron bands. He didn't squeeze tightly enough to cause pain, but even so, you wouldn't have been able to move an inch, no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do for your own comfort was to wrap your legs around his hips and let your hands hang by your sides.
From experience, you knew it wasn't worth begging to be let go, no matter how stiff you were or how important a task you had somewhere else. The easiest way was always to simply wait for him to finish.
Your stomach growled loudly. Maybe… Just this once, he might let you go.
Miguel buried his face in your neck, you felt his hot lips and closed eyes on your skin. Softly, you patted his back with one hand, while attempting to slide the other in the gap between your bodies, hoping he would let you push him away.
He didn't move at all, so you let out a frustrated sigh.
“Miguel” you whispered “Miguel, please, let me go. I'm very hungry.”
Despite trying to move and signal that you wanted to break free, you were ignored. Panic started to set in, but you were trying to overcome it. You grabbed his shoulder to try to push yourself away with full force.
It felt like you were trying to move a concrete wall. He showed no reaction, not even his face moved on the skin of your neck.
"Miguel," you hated how whiny, how sharp your voice was. It sounded annoying even to your own ears. "Please, please, let me go!"
“Enough.”
You immediately stiffened. There was something in his voice that made your throat tighten. You waited for him to say something else, anything, as you lowered your hand to its previous place, but in vain. It seemed like it was enough for him that you didn't protest anymore.
The sun set behind the skyscrapers of Nueva York, and the room plunged into darkness. With a defeated sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder.
Miguel began tracing playful circles on your back with his thumb, pressing slow, deliberate kisses onto your neck. As if your protest woke him up to the fact that he was holding a living being in his arms. The touch of his skin ignited a flare across yours, and your chest tightened with pain.
If only it had always been like this with him. Or at least sometimes, when you would have been open to him too. He was completely unpredictable, never knowing when he'd acknowledge your existence. From the very start, you knew he wasn't an easy personality, but this was something different. You felt both completely abandoned and overwhelmed at the same time.
You raised a hand to ran your fingers through his hair and felt his hands relax around you. You gently kissed his temple.
Suddenly he tensed, and you stifled a quiet scream. You know he would never hurt you, you told yourself, but you weren't convincing enough. You saw with your own eyes how the iron rods bend under his fingers as if they were made of clay.
You watched every news report on TV and every video that Lyla showed about him. You were well aware of what he was capable of. Even in this moment, he could have snapped your spine at any time, a slightly stronger squeeze would have been enough.
“Okay, that's enough," said Miguel, as if you were the one who didn't want to let him go, not the other way around.
"Hey!"
He pushed you off his lap. You would have fallen if he hadn't caught your arm to hold you. You grabbed onto him to regain your balance while he turned his attention towards his watch.
“Lyla, is there anything new?”
“Yes there is, but I didnt want to disturb you lovebirds. It seems like there’s some new info about Vulture, but nothing imminent. Still no info about his whereabouts.”
Miguel hissed in frustration and then turned his back to you. He started heading towards his own room.
"Didn't you want to make dinner?" he threw back before the door closed behind him.
You just stared after him for a few moments, standing alone in the dark room.
"Asshole," you said to the door. You sounded more tired than angry.
You went back to the kitchen and continued preparing dinner. Your home appliances could have made anything you wanted, probably cheaper (and tastier) than you, but there was a certain comfort in this simple routine that you couldn't let go of. Right now, you needed your hands to be busy as you thought through your situation, likely for the hundredth time in the past few weeks.
You didn't want to live like this. That was the simple truth.
When you first got together, Miguel was different. Not by much, but different. He was still willing to put energy into your relationship. However, since then, there have been more and more threats, work and problems, not to mention the number of Spider-Men he kept track of.
He doesn't have the time or energy for those little things that made you fall in love in the first place. You knew what had happened to him before you met, what happened to his daughter and that other universe. You tried to be understanding, genuinely.
Honestly, if it were only you suffering, maybe you could let go of all this, but it seemed like that Miguel also didn't want this relationship that much. Those tender moments that used to be so common between you, the hugs, the kisses, the intimate touches were increasingly scarce.
No, scarcity is not the right word for it. These moments between you slowly condensed into a single point, first daily, then weekly, lately almost monthly, when you often could do nothing but endure whatever he put you through.
You didn't want to think this way about the person you loved more than anything, but when you looked deep inside yourself, you knew you were starting to fear him. It didn't help much that when he wasn't being controlling, he often just plain ignored you, like he was doing right now.
When it first occurred to you that you should move out, you dismissed the thought. Then again. And again.
And then you didn’t.
It was much easier to find a rental apartment than you thought. Even Lyla helped when you asked her to. She hesitated, but not much, she just said you definitely have to talk to Miguel about it, and you agreed with her. You didn't understand why you haven't brought up the matter to him since then.
Maybe because you knew trying to reason with him wouldn't accomplish anything, as you had asked him many times before to consider your feelings. Maybe because you felt this was a much bigger step than anything you've brought up before. Or maybe it was the guilt you felt over the fact that you were increasingly looking forward to the date when you could finally move out.
This date was tomorrow.
You finished dinner. Two plates of boiled egg sandwiches with salad and a soft drink. Nothing special, you just tried to drag out the preparation as long as possible. You laid everything out on the table and then leaned against the counter. It's been so long since you've eaten together like this. Lately, Miguel ate everything in his own room or wherever he happened to be on a mission.
You took a deep breath, then pushed yourself off the counter. You started walking towards Miguel's room to knock. You thought you'd have to beg again, so you were surprised when the door slid open in front of you.
You entered the dimly lit, cold room filled with humming and blinking computers. You didn't like being here. You never knew when you'd see something on one of the screens that you couldn't get out of your head for weeks.
"What is it?" Miguel sounded annoyed, but at least he turned in his chair to look at you. You saw his eyes searching your hand for the plate of dinner you usually set outside his door, as if he were a teenage kid and you a resigned parent. When he realized you were empty-handed, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"
You cleared your throat. You felt your heart racing, making you feel like an idiot. You had prepared for this moment for so long, yet now you wanted to turn around and flee. But why am I still so scared?
“No, I just want to talk to you. Can you come out a bit? I've set the table outside.”
Miguel looked like he would rather say he was too busy, but when he looked at your face, it was clear that he knew something was wrong. After a brief silence, he spoke up in a surprisingly gentle tone.
"Just give me a minute to finish this. Lyla!"
You didn't wait to hear all his instructions. You went back to the kitchen and waited for him there.
"If this matter is so important, you can tell me now," Miguel said.
"Let's eat first, please. We can talk after. I promise, this will be the only time.”
It was clear that this did not decrease his suspicion, but rather fuelled it. Nevertheless, he sat down and without any further talk picked up his sandwich. This compelled you to do the same.
As you ate, you tried to formulate in your mind what you would eventually say to him from the myriad of possibilities you had gathered. It proved to be surprisingly difficult, and you didn't feel ready to speak when you finally finished eating.
Miguel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well? I'm all ears.”
There was something so condescending in his voice that your jaw tightened. You closed your eyes for a moment before you spoke. You tried to keep your voice calm.
“I've been thinking a lot lately. About you, about us… You know this isn't working. I don't know if Lyla told you, but…"
Miguel slammed the table so hard that the cutlery clinked. Your breath hitched. You didn't even see him move.
“Again, seriously? Look, I don't have time for this. I understand that you're not happy with the current situation, and believe me, neither am I. But still…”
“I want to leave you, Miguel.”
He immediately stopped talking. You just stared at each other. The sound of the impact was still ringing in your ears.
Eventually, you broke the silence again.
"I'm sorry. Believe me, I really am sorry. I know we've tried a lot…" I tried, you told yourself, “but I don't want to continue this. It will be better for both of us if we can move on."
“Vale” he said dryly.”And what are you going to do after this? Do you have any idea what's out there in the city?”
"Yes. I've already found an apartment, well, we've found one with Lyla."
Another silence followed. You stood up from the table.
“I'm sorry” you said again. You didn't even know what got into you when you reached out to stroke his hair.
"Don't," he hissed, causing your hand to stop in the air. He turned away from you.
“What are you waiting for? Pack your stuff and get out of here.”
This time you didn't hesitate. You turned around and left to gather your things.
***
Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable, really.
A week had passed since you moved out. Miguel refused to use the word ‘permanently’. At first, he didn't even want to believe that you were really capable of going so far as to bring up the breakup, and he never dreamed that you would actually go through with it.
As you packed, he waited for the moment when you'd break down and apologize, when you'd take everything back to let things return to how they used to be.
As it turned out, he waited in vain. Somehow, you had enough backbone not to waver as you always did before. This was his mistake, he should have noticed the signs that this time you are not just planning, but also acting.
His fist clenched at the thought that Lyla helped you without telling him. This could never happen again. When you told him this, he was so furious that he was on the verge of smashing the table between you. He was so angry that he feared he might actually harm you. This is partly why he didn't stand in your way when you started pulling your suitcase out.
But now? Now he was left alone, and he knew he would never be able to truly let you go.
He lay alone in his bed. He managed to fall asleep on the first night, perhaps he didn't even dream, but then he woke up in the middle of the night. He was so used to you being next to him when he slept, regardless of the time of day, that when he didn't hear your breathing in his sleep, panic immediately set in.
He woke up to his heart almost bursting out of his chest, while clutching the spot on the sheet where you usually lay. He hated himself for being so predictable, and he hated you for eliciting this from him even when you weren't near.
Since then, he hardly slept at all. He was so tense that even the slightest slight could push him to the brink of a rage fit. For a while, Lyla didn't even try to reason with him.
He immediately got your address from her, of course, then checked it out for himself. He deliberately didn't go when he knew you would be home, but he couldn't help it, he had to cling to the walls of the surrounding buildings to watch when your figure, shrouded in shadows, got home.
Villains came to his mind. They were the ones who thought like him in this moment. Obsessively focusing on a single target as if his life depended on it… In a way, it was a very petty mindset. Not suited for someone responsible for the safety of others. But that's exactly what he was doing – watching over you and ensuring no threat reached you. Of course, he continued to track Vulture and the others as well, not to mention the other Spider-People, but it was true that they all took a backseat when it came to you.
No, he wasn’t like the villains. He did this because you were important to him. If you had a little sense, you could have seen this too. That's why he waited through this week to calm down enough to speak to you in a normal tone. If possible, it would have been best if you came back to him of your own free will, but if he scares you, he might achieve the opposite.
Actually, what he wanted most was for you to come back on your own with your stupid suitcase, but so far you've held firm. It seemed you were doing just fine without him. Sometimes he even caught you humming to yourself on the way home. You haven't done that in months at his place. Miguel didn't even want to admit to himself that this made a small part of his heart ache.
The problem was that as time went on, he didn't become calmer, quite the opposite. If he wasn't thinking about you, then he was thinking about the things that could harm you while you weren't with him. If something were to happen to you when he wasn't there…
He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't.
A soft beep came from his watch. A reported robbery. Since it seemed the local patrol had already dealt with the matter, he almost settled back down, but then he glanced at the holographic map.
He immediately jumped to his feet. His blood thudded in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear Lyla's responses to the instructions he barked at her as he headed out.
The robbery had occurred near your block. Right next to you.
***
You stood with your arms crossed in front your chest in the window of your third-floor living room. The sirens had long since gone silent and the police had left. The case did not seem serious, and you were not overly worried. These things were not unusual in this city. Before you got together with Miguel, you often saw similar crimes.
Miguel. You thought you would miss him more, but from the very first days you felt the invisible weight lifting off your shoulders. You unpacked the few belongings you brought with you and started creating a new life for yourself.
It was good to occupy yourself with something other than ruminating about your ex. It was strange that you no longer had to think about when you would push him away or make him angry with some insignificant detail.
At first, you didn't even notice the dull thud that sounded like a heavy object had hit the wall of your panel apartment.
Then your bedroom window burst.
You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could scream. You looked around the room, then crouched behind the couch in the corner, using the clatter of the glass shards to cover the sound of your movement. You didn't turn on the light in the living room because you didn't want anyone to notice you watching the police cars, but the light was on in your bedroom. The intruder must have seen this.
Who was currently out in the city? Vulture? Venture? And who else? They shouldn't have known who you are. While you were with Miguel, you barely left the apartment. No one has seen you two in the same place for months.
You covered your face with your palm as a massive thud shook the wall behind you. That might have been the door that led to the hallway.
“Where are you?”
Your breath hitched. This can't be happening.
You almost answered him, but changed your mind at the last minute. You flinched when another blow shook the house. It was the wall mirror.
You pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to stifle the sob rising in your throat, and the other to pull your phone out of your pocket. Who should you call? You can't send normal cops after Miguel. Plus, you've never heard him like this.
A superhero wouldn't harm innocents… But a superhero wouldn't break into his ex's home like this either. If he just wants to save you from something, then why did he smash everything in his path? No, you felt that you shouldn't come out, but with his senses, it shouldn't have taken much time for him to find you.
As if he heard your thoughts.
“I know you're here. I can smell you.”
His voice was slightly calmer than it was a few moments ago. You heard him take a deep breath. This meant that it was quiet enough that if you started crying now, he would find you instantly.
You didn't dare to move. Tears freely flowed down your face, but you didn't feel it. Suddenly, you became very aware that you really had no idea how good his hearing was.
He stopped in the hallway. What was he doing? Fiddling with something, but what…
Your phone rang in your hand.
The next moment, the couch disappeared in front of you. You didn't have time to end the call before Miguel grabbed your shirt to pull you up. Your back hit the wall, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Your phone fell to the ground, but you didn't even try to catch it. Sharp claws tore up the fabric of your clothes where he held you.
You cried out in pain and terror.
For a moment, you locked eyes with each other before Miguel's red gaze slid down to scan your body. It took a little time for you to realize he was looking for injuries.
When he was convinced that you were unharmed, he slightly loosened his grip, but not enough for you to break free. You desperately clung to his wrist, despite knowing that if he wanted to kill you, nothing would stop him, especially not your weak human hands.
"Please, don't hurt me," you whimpered from the depths of your throat.
He growled. You had never heard this sound from him before.
“Hurt you? Are you out of your mind? I'm here to take you home.”
You didn't dare shake your head, but he must have seen something in your eyes. Suddenly, you felt your feet on the floor again.
Miguel dragged you by the remnants of your shirt like a ragdoll. Your mind was foggy with panic, yet you instinctively tried to dig your heel into the carpet. As you passed by the doorway, you reached out to grasp it, but it didn't slow him down. You felt something crack in your shoulder, then the burning pain flooded you. You had to let go.
You needed all your willpower not to scream when you saw what he had done to your apartment. It was as if someone had let loose a small hurricane. Your knee was scraped raw on the few feets leading to your front door, not to mention the shards of glass Miguel dragged you over. You were so terrified that you barely felt the pain.
You thought he would drag you straight out of the apartment, so you squeaked in surprise when he stopped in front of the door and let go of your shirt. As you collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor, he stood in front of you.
"I want you to pay very close attention to me, because I won't say this again. What do you see?"
You looked at him in shock. You followed his gaze with your eyes as he pointed to the lock.
"The door handle?”
He growled so loudly that your chest trembled. He reached down to roughly grab the back of your neck. His claws left shallow scratches on your skin as he forced you to stare at the lock above the door handle.
"This is a damn biometric identifier. Do you know how long it takes for someone to get a few samples from you? For God's sake, do you know how hard it would be to break in here?”
You were afraid that a stronger jerk and he might just tear your head off. You whimpered like a cornered animal.
"Answer me!"
"Very easy?" you muttered.
“Exactly! And do you know what's the deal with your windows? Anyone can see in, from anywhere, not to mention breaking in.”
Yes, you demonstrated that very well, you thought numbly, but you had the sense not to say it out loud. He let go again, and you took the opportunity to slide against the wall. You huddled up just like you did in the living room only a few minutes ago.
Miguel said something in Spanish, but he spoke too quickly for you to understand. He paced back and forth in front of you.
"I simply don't understand what was going through your head. It's a miracle you're still alive. What if those on the streets decide to break in? What if they follow you to your apartment?"
He roughly ran his hand through his hair.
"I know foresight isn't your strong suit, that's for sure, but even you have to see this. You need to come back with me. It's obvious you can't keep yourself safe."
You were about to shake your head, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you covered your face, and agonizing sobbing broke out of you again.
A little time passed, which seemed like hours to you, but could only have been a few minutes. Miguel stayed silent, and you had no idea what he might be doing. You didn't hear him move among the shards of glass, but that didn't mean much. If he wanted to, he could remain completely silent.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail.
You flinched when you felt his hand on your arm. His claws were no longer out. You didn't answer him when he called you by your name. You were still crying.
“Damn it” he said quietly. “Please, calm down.”
You tried to hold yourself back, you didn't want to anger him again, but you couldn't. Even though every part of you protested when you felt him gently pull your hand away from your face, you didn't resist. Now you could see that he had squatted down in front of you. He wiped a tear off your face with his thumb.
It was evident that he wanted to say something more, but then he changed his mind. This time, much more gently, he reached out to pull you into his arms. As he drew you close to his chest, you responded by clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder.
You could feel the movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he let out a sigh.
"God, I missed you so much."
You had no idea what expression he might be wearing. Tears were still streaming from your eyes, soaking his superhero suit, but it no longer seemed to bother him.
"I'll never let you go again."
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tryingonametaphor · 8 months
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all of heartstopper season 2 was incredible, but joe’s acting of charlie freezing up and going silent every time he was around ben, his abuser, was especially phenomenal. it really does feel exactly like that. like you have so much you want to say and fight back with but you just can’t.
and i’m happy charlie got to stand up for himself and say what he wanted to towards the end.
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suffersinfandom · 5 months
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I feel for the Izzy fans, I really do. It sucks to have your favorite character killed off, especially when you feel like their death serves no narrative purpose. It genuinely hurts to lose a character that you identify closely with, and it's okay to be sad and grieve. The character might not be real, but the grief is. Let people mourn. Don't be rude to the ones who are just being sad in their little corners of the internet, yeah?
That said.
Some of the stuff I've seen in the OFMD fandom today? Worst shit I've seen in a fandom that I love and care about, and grief is no excuse. I know I'm a no one in this fandom and I'm mostly typing into a void, but I've got to get some things out:
The show doesn't deserve to be canceled. None of the creators, producers, or writers deserve to be canceled. Nothing queerphobic, homophobic, or ableist happened.
Izzy's death was not an insult or a cruelty or a targeted attack.
David Jenkins and the rest of the writers did not gaslight and abuse anyone (yeah, those are take I've seen).
It wasn't "objectively" a cheap or meaningless or badly-written death. You can hate it and that's okay, but that's still subjective!
Izzy was not the main character or the "heart" of the show. The heart of the show -- the show itself -- is Ed and Stede's relationship. We have been told as much.
"Ed hasn't faced any consequences for his actions." He has though? He didn't gaslight girlboss his way back into everyone's hearts. Izzy is not Ed's hapless and helpless victim. He was almost beaten to death and ran around in a penitence onesie with a catbell on; I think those were consequences.
"How do you feel when gay characters are randomly killed off to help a straight couple progress their narrative? Not good, huh? That's how disabled fans feel." It's okay to feel that way, but don't make any sweeping assumptions about disabled fans. I'm disabled and I'm gonna say that's not what happened here.
"How dare you kill off this character who's abused, flawed, suicidal, disabled, and queer!" Ed is still right over there, yeah? Check, check, check, check, and check. (Little note: I've seen a lot of "he's not disabled!" Even if you don't buy the kneebrace ((Ed Teach with bad joints is so important to me, shhh)), what about invisible disabilities? What about mental health issues? I'm not here to diagnose a fictional character, but it's clear to me that Ed has mental health problems that dramatically impact his life.)
"It's sick that Izzy died in the arms of his abuser apologizing to him." I don't even know where to start with this one, but I get the feeling that some parts of the fandom only consider physical abuse valid. Mental, verbal, and emotional abuse are pretty fucking damaging and I think it's sick that some folks think they aren't actually abuse.
People who enjoyed the last episode of season two aren't media illiterate. People who love Gentlebeard aren't abusive narcissists.
I just.
I really, truly feel for Izzy fans for I too have lost a blorbo. I'm giving a huge hug to the Izzy enjoyers who aren't out there making threats and calling everyone abusers and being outright hostile to anyone who had the nerve to enjoy this season. Like, I genuinely hope you guys are doing okay, and if you need an ear, I'm game.
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terriblywhumpy · 1 year
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Once he was a prince…
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underdark-dreams · 3 months
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Incredibly excited to finally start releasing this into the wild!!
After my 2-part Rolan x Tav fic Good Night For Company, I really wanted to write a longer continuation of their story set in Act 3. And at last, here is the first chapter--multiple others planned! (With more romance soon to follow)
Note: this chapter explores darker themes than my usual work. I encourage you to check the AO3 tags if you have any doubts. They will be updated regularly 🖤
A Strand to Climb - Ch.1
Two very different heroes find themselves in Baldur's Gate at last. All Tav can think about is seeing a certain apprentice wizard again, but Rolan finds himself trying to push her away.
Tags: Angst, Physical Abuse, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 2,840 [Read on AO3]
Lorroakan liked to make Rolan wait. 
He was a man who enjoyed toying with people, and Rolan found himself the newest and current favorite toy in the archwizard’s collection. He tipped his head back to gaze up at the criss-crossing arches in the high ceiling of Ramazith’s Tower, trying to occupy his mind away from the fatigue pooling in the soles of his feet. 
Tonight’s lesson should have begun half an hour ago. He knew better than to move from his usual spot on the fine carpet, however.
Whatever Cal or Lia might think, Rolan was no blind idiot. 
He hadn't gotten this far in life without a bitter skepticism about human nature. He'd filed away every rumor he heard about Lorroakan on the road from Elturel, though he hadn’t given them any weight at the time.
The revelation that the man was even worse than what he'd heard was…a disappointment, to be sure. And a complication. 
But it did nothing to change his path or his determination to succeed. Apprenticeships with archwizards didn't drop out of the sky, even with ones as worthless and vapid as Lorroakan. Especially not to a student with Infernal blood.
And Rolan could be very patient when he put his mind to it. He’d waited many years to find himself standing here in Ramazith’s Tower, hadn’t he? He could survive another year or two as Lorroakan’s apprentice. 
Rolan gathered the thoughts around him like armor where he stood in the center of the cavernous room, awaiting the arrival of his master. 
As if on cue, the rushing portal sounded behind him as Lorroakan himself swept into the room.
“I understand my apprentice has been pawing through the merchandise.”
Entering rooms with a full sentence was another of Lorroakan’s favorite tactics. Though he expected it by now, Rolan still found himself thrown off balance by the words for a moment—no doubt their intended purpose. His mind raced to grasp what he was being accused of before he looked to his master.
Lorroakan stood on the step before him with lips drawn into the hint of a smile, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. The man was angry.
Rolan kept his voice calm and careful. “Master Lorroakan, I should have explained. Two of Aradin’s men managed to get past the guards several nights ago, raiding for valuables. It took some time to salvage the scrolls they damaged in the process.”
“I see. And as a result, you took it upon yourself to give Klank a little upgrade, did you?”
Performing magic in the shop outside of Lorroakan’s direct orders—a mistake. “Yes, Master,” Rolan replied reluctantly.
“How clever,” said Lorroakan above him. But he didn’t sound like he thought it was clever at all.
“I know what a nuisance they’ve been to you, Master Lorroakan.”
“Don’t lie to me, boy—”
As he spoke, Rolan felt a foreign presence prodding at the corners of his mind. There were few spells Lorroakan had demonstrated complete mastery of thus far—but the ritual for detecting thoughts was certainly among them. 
Rolan knew he would face a far worse punishment than whatever was coming if he resisted. Instead, fighting all his natural instincts, he let his mind’s defenses go slack.
Lorroakan’s consciousness pierced through his own, rough and careless. It rapidly shoved through his thoughts then withdrew just as abruptly. Rolan held back a wince of discomfort at the treatment.
His master’s eyes narrowed at him, that placid smile still on his lips. 
"On your knees," Lorroakan instructed silkily.
As his body obeyed in silence, Rolan felt churning bile and indignant pride rise in his throat. If Lorroakan hoped all these trials would break Rolan's spirit, he'd find they were having the opposite effect.
Lorroakan’s voice was dangerously even. "Although I’ve expressly forbidden it, you decided to avail yourself of a bit of private study from the scroll stock while you were at it. Outside my wishes."
Though Rolan kept his eyes down on the carpet below, he heard the rustle of Lorroakan’s robes as he began to circle him. Like a cat with a mouse.
“Forgive me, Master,” Rolan said down to the floor. “I only reviewed the spells you’ve seen fit to instruct me in.” 
A second mistake.
“Oh?” Lorroakan’s voice dripped with fresh venom. “And is my instruction insufficient?”
Yes. Completely fucking useless. “No, Master Lorroakan. I only know how short your time is with more important matters…locating the Nightsong. I hoped to perfect what you’ve taught me, to arrive better prepared for your lessons.”
Surely that was sufficient for his ego? Rolan dared to hope so as Lorroakan’s steps came to a halt in his periphery.
Without warning, the red wizard's palm connected with the soft dip of his temple.
Defenses still down from his earlier mental invasion, Rolan's body jerked sideways; he caught himself with sharp nails into the carpet. The blow rang deafening and shrill between his ears.
"—suffer insolence, boy," Lorroakan was warning somewhere above him as Rolan's hearing returned. "And put those filthy claws away. Are you a man or a beast?"
"Yes, Master," Rolan gasped, hardly knowing whether he should agree or say no. The pain in his skull overwhelmed his senses in a way that must have translated as meekness. 
Lorroakan sighed, the way one might at a dear but misbehaving pet.
"Young Rolan," he tutted. "Still so willful. So much yet to learn from my wealth of knowledge. And I am generous…"
As he spoke, his polished boots moved closer into Rolan’s downturned field of vision, and Rolan felt the archmage's soft fingers under his chin guiding his gaze upwards.
This was always the very worst part. Rolan would willingly take a dozen more blows if he could avoid what came after. 
Instead, he witnessed the gleam of satisfaction in Lorroakan's eyes as he examined his past weeks' handiwork on his apprentice's face—as if the sight brought him a deep pleasure that verged on carnal. Rolan's insides turned over in disgust.
"Yet even my favorite apprentice must be trained, must be disciplined." Lorroakan's words were silky soft, but his thumb and forefinger gripped into Rolan's chin with bruising force. "You'll stay to reorganize the abjuration wing tonight, alphabetically by subject."
Rolan nodded mutely, as much as Lorroakan's grip allowed. He had just finished reordering them all by title a few days ago. But what did it matter anymore?
At least his penance appeared to have cut the evening short. Lorroakan released him without a backwards glance. 
As the archmage swept away toward the portal to take his leave, Rolan got to his feet as slowly as he could manage. He ran hands down his robes, hoping the scuffs on his knees would come out with some careful spellwork. This was the only set he had.
By the time he raised his eyes to look around, Lorroakan was gone. One of the metal Myrmidons shuffled aimlessly near the railing, quite harmless without its master's direction. Lorroakan controlled them, but he hadn’t created them; Rolan had gathered that early. 
Alone again, Rolan let out a pent-up breath. Then he turned toward the towering case of books and scrolls on abjuration. 
He'd be able to touch them, he knew, but turning a single page would result in a painful rebuke. The nerves in his right hand smarted in memory of the first and last time he'd been stupid enough to try.
Of the vast wealth of texts contained in his tower—how many of their spines had Lorroakan actually cracked open? For an archmage, he was profoundly lacking in a desire for learning, among many other qualities. The wealth of this place was wasted on one like him.
A memory came back to Rolan from the Druid's Grove, a time and place that felt several lifetimes ago now. Gale, her erudite wizard, asking him to repeat Lorroakan's name. Making those insinuations that got Rolan's hackles up in defense for his new master—and for his own judgment. 
Rolan should have listened to the words from an older and clearly wiser mind.
Would it have changed anything in the end? He'd reverently carried Lorroakan's invitation with him all the way from Elturel. No matter what he heard, there was never a chance he might have walked away from the offer. 
But he might feel like less of a fool.
Hot shame rose in Rolan’s throat. If only Tav and her wizard could see him now, he thought bitterly. The fresh bruise forming at his temple throbbed as if to punctuate the idea. Rolan pushed up the sleeves of his robe and set to work.
Though it was only her first morning in Baldur’s Gate proper, Tav found that her list of urgent tasks had grown longer than ever.
There was the spate of gruesome murders, the rival thieves’ guilds warring in the underground, the freshly ordained archduke and his formidable army of Steel Watchers. Not to mention the little problem of a godlike Elder Brain that had begun to test its weakened chains. 
Tav had always thought of herself as a patient person. But these past few days, her companions all seemed to be tugging her in opposite directions. Everyone was irritable and on edge, herself included.
After Lae’zel and Astarion had nearly drawn on each other over the campfire last night—a row over what to do with the cambion’s latest offer of a deal—Tav snapped. She made the executive decision that they all needed a day away from each other to clear their heads.
Yet rather than pursue any of her many important leads, here she was loitering alone in front of the message board outside Basilisk Gate.
A good bit of it was taken up with Enver Gortash’s face, looking every bit the messiah he was definitely not. There were other notices: Flaming Fist enlistment posters, a few hand-written notes for missing persons. More likely unfortunate victims in the city’s recent murder spree. 
She found her eye uselessly searching for another name altogether. It was probably stupid—did wizards usually announce their new apprentices to the public?
Just as she’d made up her mind to move on, Lorroakan’s own name caught her eye. Tav tore the pamphlet down from the board.
‘Seeking Information About the Nightsong! Report Findings to Archwizard Lorroakan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City, Famed and Illustrious Mage of the Sword Coast.’
Unease bloomed in her stomach. What did an archwizard want with Dame Aylin? 
She turned the paper over, looking for anything besides vague details. Nothing on the notice said anything about capture or forcible delivery, but there was a reward printed in large type at the bottom of the page.
Her brows descended at the figure. Something about the size of it only increased her sense of foreboding.
Though she’d planned to make her way to Ramazith’s Tower to see Rolan as soon as she possibly could, perhaps now she had another reason to pay it a visit.
“Hey, Tav!”
She looked around at the sound of her name. Lia stood on the top step from the Basilisk Gate barracks, a slim scroll in her hand. She followed Tav's eyes to the parchment.
“Enlistment papers,” she explained, tucking them in her belt as she descended the stairs. “They’re no Hellriders, but it’s a decent job. Plus I heard some mad cult is planning to march an army down on our heads. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Lia added with a wry smile.
Somehow Tav was relieved to hear Lia could joke about it. It lightened some of the weariness in her own chest. She hastily pocketed the reward pamphlet—though she thought Lia’s eyes followed the motion. Then she rounded to return the smile.
“Gods, is it good to see a friend,” she admitted. “How are you, Lia?”
“You mean besides the constant threat of murder and war, and the stupid comments about my horns? Alright, considering,” Lia chuckled.
Tav felt a prickle of anger. She supposed that was a common experience for Tieflings, but that only made it worse somehow.
Lia caught her mood. “Don’t worry about it. We certainly don’t. Besides, it’s loads better here than it ever was back home.”
Tav moved the conversation along. She asked after Cal—trying to avoid immediately turning the subject to Rolan. Even though her heart ached to know how he was. Rolan and his siblings had taken the direct path from Moonrise to the Lower City, no doubt reaching it weeks before her own party had made their winding way toward the gates.
Lia was clever enough to realize what she was doing. Tav’s close relationship with Lia’s older brother was anything but a secret at this point, after all. But the younger woman played along politely for the moment.
When they were all out of other topics to catch up on, Tav did her best to sound as casual as possible. “How’s our brilliant apprentice getting along?”
Lia’s face changed at the question. Her brow flew into a scowl, and the muscle in her jaw tightened. 
“I don't talk to him about it anymore,” she snapped.
Tav blinked in surprise, but the feeling was quickly replaced by concern. “What is it?”
Lia looked around for a moment, as if worried someone might be listening to overhear. She moved down a few steps to stand with arms crossed beside Tav.
“Look…Rolan’s proud,” she said in a low voice. “You know that well as I do. He won't ever give me or Cal a straight answer about it. But Tav, seriously? I'm not sure he's been taught a damn thing yet. Rolan always gets upset when me or Cal come by the Sundries. Like he’s scared of someone seeing us there. And every time I’ve been in, Lorroakan’s got him working the stupid counter instead of studying. And his—”
Tav was hanging on every word by the time Lia abruptly cut herself off. The two of them shared a long look.
“I don't think he’s treating Rolan well,” Lia told her. Her nails dug into the fabric of her sleeves. “I know he isn't.”
“Not treating him well how?” The concern had grown to a snake of worry coiling through Tav’s insides. 
Lia’s hands continued fidgeting over her arms. She glanced away behind the curtain of her hair, as if regretting how much she'd said. 
“Listen, just—just go talk to Rolan. Please? You should hear it from him. If he won't listen to us, maybe he’ll listen to you. Don't think he could ever tell you no,” Lia added with a weak smile, an expression that was more pained than anything.
An ominous feeling swirled around in Tav’s brain, muddling the tail end of their conversation. Her head nodded along automatically as Lia gave an invitation to her and Cal’s flat in Heapside Strands, but her ears barely caught the street name. 
Once Lia had given her a quick one-armed hug and departed, Tav stood hardly knowing where she was. A Flaming Fist jostled past her shoulder from the barracks with a backwards comment about loitering in byways. 
She hardly heard the man. Her mind was filled with images of Rolan; proud, hopeful, excited for his future. Had this Lorroakan done something to spoil the dream he’d fought so hard to achieve?
As Tav’s hand brushed against the reward pamphlet in her pocket, the fingers there clenched into a fist. The other closed tight around the hilt of the longsword resting in her scabbard.
Whatever it was, something was wrong here. Very wrong. She was tempted to march straight into Sorcerous Sundries, find Rolan, and demand the truth out of him. And if he put on his stubborn act, she could think of a few very pleasant ways to get honest answers from his lips.
But what if he was somehow in danger from this archwizard?
That thought brought her up short. Lia’s voice before had held a hint of fear; not an emotion she’d know Lia to express lightly. Perhaps rushing into the situation blind would risk causing Rolan more harm than good.
Tav felt her pulse pound at the thought of putting him in danger. She let out a breath, trying to clear her head of the tangle of emotions. None of them would help her make a sound decision. As much as she might want to, she shouldn’t go racing off straight to Ramazith’s Tower.
And she shouldn’t go alone. If some kind of trouble was waiting there—increasingly likely when she considered Lorroakan’s cryptic interest in the Nightsong—she would need her companions with her. And they were currently spread out gods-knew-where across the city. 
Though her heart fought against it, the logical choice was clear. The wisest course would be to leave this for tomorrow.
In the morning, they would pay a visit to Ramazith’s Tower…and Tav would finally get the measure of this archwizard for herself.
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badaziraphaletakes · 2 days
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Hm...
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I completely agree - just because the Metatron might be hurting doesn't mean he should be excused for hurting Crowley and Aziraphale. Maybe he can have a redemption arc, but he needs to be truly sorry for what he's done first.
Wait... you mean you weren't talking about the Metatron?
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mosovi-vian · 1 year
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Tired.
Season 3 only made birdman even more special to me. I see myself a lot in Hunter, and while it could just be me projecting I really think his behavior in the past two specials reflects where I am in my own healing journey. The one step forward two steps back then two step forward one step back part of his recovery stage in life hits home. I guess this is vent art?? Abuse recovery is a bitch, and new trauma can always form even when you're making progress. I think that's why Flapjack's death really stuck with me. This is a time in Hunter's life when resiliency is especially needed, and I'm glad that Willow and his friends will be there to support him through it. This character has given me a lot of insight into my own past experiences and inspires me to reach out to find my people in the world, and I cannot thank Dana and the crew enough for the show.
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freifraufischer · 5 months
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Kara Eaker's retirement post is... horrific
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wonysugar · 8 months
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hmmmforkkfngdok sorry i just had the most dirty most disrespectful dom!chaewon thoughts omg
cw! physical abuse (with dubious consent?? don’t really know what to call this just know chaewon hits reader)
this might be like kinda corny but like please bare with me! you and chaewon having a huge fight in the dorms.. she at one point snaps and her anger issues take over and she just slaps you across the face and you just MOAN?!&;@(
that’s the day she knew you were a dirty slut for her… she always had doubts about you guys being compatible, she thought her hard and strict personality would never fit with yours, since you often were fighting back. but that day? she realized you guys were meant to be after all. :(
“..did you just moan?” she asks you, looking at you in pure disbelief, like you’re just garbage to her. she slaps you and you’re moaning? it didn’t take her long before she dragged you to the bed and forced you to get her off and eat her out, putting you in your place.. because she didn’t want to admit it but god did that get her wet. she just wanted to fuck you so good that day:< like you so apparently wanted her to.
ever since that day, she completely abuses you in bed and slaps you everywhere, sometimes even giving you small bruises as marking, she wanted people to know you were hers and no one else’s… hits you during fights because she knows you like it.. often ends up in make-up sex ahem
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August was most likely abused as a child
CW: discussion of abuse including physical abuse of Louise and August. Explanations of abuse mechanisms and triggers.
And shoutout to this post by Jo @iwouldnevergetintofanfic who inspired me to look deeper into the theme of abuse in Young Royals.
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In the first episode of s2, August has a panic attack. He says he's waiting and waiting for a punch in the face, coming when he's least expecting it, but he knows it's coming.
That's a very odd thing to say - unless it has happened to him before. Many times. Who could have done that? To elicit such a viceral reaction from August?
Not the students at Hillerska, he was too old when he arrived and his status and Erik would have protected him. Not his mum, he doesn't fear or look up to her, instead he has no respect for her. Not his stepdad, he's not been around long enough. It was most likely his own father. August was hit in the face whenever his dad felt like it, at irregular intervals, and it was always unexpected.
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It makes so much more sense how scared August was when Simon jumped him in season 1 after the parents day. August thought Simon would beat him up, and he didn't resist because he'd learnt as a child that resisting made it worse.
August's dad, Carl Johan, was an angry man who beat his son, and probably his wife Louise too. Yet August blames his mum for his dad's struggles. That's less common when the abuser beats their kids too. It means that Carl Johan blamed his wife for his own anger, and August internalised those thoughts, likely mixing them with his own anger over his mum's failiure to protect him against the abuse.
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Abusive parents always have a favourite golden child, and a scapegoat. When they have only one child, that kid gets to be both, alternating role depending on the mood of the parent and how well they perform according to the abuser's unreasonable expectations. This is extremely confusing for the child, and would also contribute to August internalising his father's thoughts and feelings about his mother.
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When August is being a bully, he's copying his father's behaviour. Behaving like that makes him feel safe and in control. Every time he loses control, it reminds him of the abuse he suffered as a child, and he lashes out, behaving irrationally and "impulsive". But he's not impulsive, he's triggered. That's how triggers work - they cause displaced emotions that appear irrational, but are emotional flashbacks from traumatic events.
Triggered people may lash out, but selfish, immature people care less about containing their anger, and they also never fully take responsibility, they thend to blame other people for their own behaviour, especially partners and children.
Interestingly, August swings between blaming Wille and admitting that he's the one responsible - he told Sara "There's something wrong with my fucking head."
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Despite his facade as a bully and a perfect noble who knows all the rules, August is often feeling like a scared little boy. It's interesting and sad that enduring this feeling is the key to emotional growth.
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This is a young man who's been taught through abuse to keep up the facade at all times, no matter how he really feels.
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And who else was abused by his dad? Simon. The parallels runs deep; their dads were abusive alcoholics and addicts. They're both deeply traumatised, and they both put up a facade to hide their true feelings.
The paralles exist to reveal something about the various consequences of abuse. August's behaviour is much more harmful than Simon's, because his intentions are selfish at the core.
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exsanguidus · 7 months
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Controversial opinion; I think Ascended Astarion is the true Astarion. In DnD lore, vampirism amplifies a person's traits for whoever they are at the time they become a true vampire. A Paladin wanting to save people will end up ruling a city with an iron fist to keep people safe. A mage wanting to heal those they love will hurt everyone else to heal them. Astarion was on a journey with Tav - one from being controlled, owned, and tortured to being free, curious, and even powerful. Becoming a full vampire and ascending just amplified that. It forced a self-actualization, not a descent into villainy. I think Ascended Astarion is cannon Astarion. He will always be a vampire, and vampires in DnD are always the amplification of a true self. Without ascention, he is still malleable - but I don't think its what he wants. He wants to be powerful (protected by his own power too - his power being a means to self-preservation), he wants to be loved, seen, and free. Free of hunger, free to walk in the sun, free of Cazador. All these things are true regardless of the path you choose. But, they are all only attainable through ascension. When you ascend Astarion - he gets everything he wants and becomes who he truly is.
I'm going to start this with a disclaimer:
I work in the mental health field professionally and majored in Social & Behavioral Science, which is partly why I felt drawn to Astarion as a sort of case study. Characters rooted in trauma are interesting to me and I enjoy picking them apart to judge how real it feels. I utilize my educational and professional background to essentially guide how I write Astarion on this account.
That said, despite me being a professional in the field, all of what I have to say is my personal opinion and interpretation of Astarion's character based on how I interpret the material Larian gave us and the material that can be found in DND lore. Even in real life, things have variation and not all mental health struggles (getting over trauma is part of mental health) present the exact same way. There are theories that exist to try and explain some trends in mental health studies, psychology, and sociology, but again they're called theories for a reason.
Now, my response to this question will be under the cut and will include spoilers.
I know what lore in particular you're referencing, anon, because I've been going back to it a lot ever since I opened this account.
Astarion very much has an insecure attachment style born from his abuse at Cazador's hands. Specifically, an anxious-avoidant attachment type that leans more towards avoidant when he's first met and then begins to swing more towards anxious as he begins to get closer to Tav and the other companions.
Anxious-avoidant attachment types (also known as the “fearful or disorganized type”) bring together the worst of both worlds. Anxious-avoidants are not only afraid of intimacy and commitment, but they distrust and lash out emotionally at anyone who tries to get close to them. Anxious-avoidants often spend much of their time alone and miserable, or in abusive or dysfunctional relationships. Anxious-avoidants are low in confidence and less likely to express emotions, preferring to suppress them. However, they can have intense emotional outbursts when under stress. They also don’t tend to seek help when in need due to a distrust of others. This sucks because they are also incapable of sorting through their own issues. Anxious-avoidants really get the worst of both worlds. They avoid intimacy not because they prefer to be alone like avoidants. Rather, they avoid intimacy because they are so terrified of its potential to hurt them (Mark Manson, Attachment Styles and How They Affect Your Relationships).
Typically, most studies of Attachment Theory focus on the relationship of parents-children or romantic partners, but it can also be applied to any significant relationship someone has in their lifetime. Attachment styles thus are capable of changing based on new relationship experiences.
If you end up giving him the "good" ending where he denies the Ascension, it's implied in his final dialogue that he's actively working towards having a secure attachment type due to the influences of his fellow worm-afflicted associates - particularly Tav.
I think that it's important to also note that, even if Tav doesn't romantically connect with Astarion, he shows hints of desperately wanting someone to care for him, support him, and love him. He does want to know what sex would be like as something other than a tool, and especially what it would be like to actually want to have it just for the pure sake of enjoying having it.
You have to understand that Astarion doesn't even understand the concept of casual sex or friends with benefits. All those times he had to seduce people for Cazador was not casual sex or a friends with benefits situation. All of them were transactions with a means to an end. He got nothing out of seducing those victims besides the possibility of not incurring Cazador's wrath that night - but even then, there was still a possibility because Cazador was an abuser.
Abusers are incapable of providing genuine safety, but can manipulate their victims into believing an illusion of safety. Often times, they manipulate their victims into this by using phrases like "you made me do this by being disobedient", "it wouldn't come to this if you just did what you were told", and then weaponizing basic needs such as shelter, food, and social interaction. The bare minimum becomes something the victim is expected to be grateful for and viewed as a favor, which means anything beyond the bare minimum is expected to be viewed as a theatrical showing of care and love.
In game, Tav has the chance to hear Astarion tell the story of how Cazador turned him. He basically states that he got attacked by a mob due to a ruling he handed down when he was magistrate and then Cazador saved him and offered him immortality. It can be inferred that in his pre-vampiric days, Astarion had no idea that Cazador was abusive to his spawn.
This is likely because it seems that Cazador is careful about his public image. He doesn't allow his spawn to drink from humans, very likely not just as a means to further oppress them and dampen their potential power they could get from drinking people's blood, but also as a way to ensure there's not just a bunch of people out in the city being bitten and left alive to tell the story - or left dead on the street suspiciously.
He has his spawn seduce and lure people, particularly lower class people that would be harder for general society to realize is missing or just that he knows people who could actually challenge him wouldn't care for (you learn that reading some of the books and notes in Szarr Palace). The only exception to this is the kidnapping of Gur children, but even then it seems to fit his MO as it seems Gur are considered somewhat outcasts from the rest of Baldurian society due to their cultural differences.
It should also be noted that he himself doesn't do these seductions or kidnappings. He specifically chooses spawn to be his lackeys and that's likely so, if shit hits the fan and the spawn gets caught, he has deniability since he wasn't there. It's methodical and thought out to keep as many eyes away from him so he can still obtain what he wants and keep sailing under the radar.
Cazador is this methodical and purposeful as a result of his own trauma, which we learn about from the skull of his master in the dungeon of Szaar Palace. There's one interaction in particular with the skull in which Tav can learn that, at one point, Cazador attempted to rebel and usurp his master. Cazador failed and his master punished him via impalement. Not because Cazador had the audacity to try and usurp him, but because Cazador tried and failed. Cazador's master punished Cazador via torture because his master was disgusted by the fact that his spawn was too weak to succeed in such a plot.
Which brings me to my next point... it's not uncommon for victims of abuse to later become abusers. Hence the term Cycle of Abuse exists. Many abusers who were once victims often have the mentality of either "I'm not nearly as bad as my abuser was, they should be grateful I care enough to not be so bad" or "I survived and it made me tougher, they need to suck it up and let it help them build character" or both. They often fail to view their abuse as abuse and fail to recognize how their experience as abuse victims contributes into making them toxic and abusive to others.
There's many peer-reviewed scholarly articles you can find about the cycle of abuse, but one I particularly find useful is Editorial: Dissociation, and cycles of abuse across generations by David P.H. Jones. It talks specifically about parents and children, but I believe some of the general points made can be applied to Cazador and his spawn, as he crafts a very family-like setting that can be seen in the way that his spawn refer to one another as brothers and sisters.
This would thus make him the father figure, a role exponentially made important by the fact he denies his spawn education on things that could serve to give them ideas or the ability to leave him (for example, Astarion mentions that none of the spawn were permitted to learn about the language of the various symbols around the palace) and he consistently chooses his Golden Children (Favored Spawns) as a means of providing more false security. Do what he says, when he says, exactly how he says and don't complain then you will have benefits. You will be Favored, and to have his favor is the highest honor you could achieve.
Torture is clearly presented as Cazador's primary go-to for discipline. Research has also concluded that trauma has a way of affecting the brain and memories.
Trauma can prevent information (like words, images, sounds, etc.) from different parts of the brain from combining to make a semantic memory. The temporal lobe and inferior parietal cortex collect information from different brain areas to create semantic memory (The National Institute for the Clinical Application of Behavioral Medicine).
Astarion mentions a few times in-game that he can barely remember his life before Cazador, if at all, and a huge part of that is likely because of all the trauma Cazador inflicted upon him that exacerbated the natural occurrence of memory loss from aging (if vampires experience natural memory loss from aging, that is). This is most likely true for all of Cazador's spawn.
I say all this as a set up to truly answering you, anon, specifically where you say: "from being controlled, owned, and tortured to being free, curious, and even powerful. Becoming a full vampire and ascending just amplified that. It forced a self-actualization, not a descent into villainy."
I can argue that Astarion did not feel free up until after a decision to Ascend or not was made. And I argue that stance due to some dialogue he can have with Tav here he basically states that the power Ascension could guarantee that no one, even someone after Cazador is dead, could ever come in to oppress and hurt him again. Even with Cazador dead, he has such an intense fear of being enslaved and used that he turns to catastrophic thoughts as justification to why he needs to Ascend.
Catastrophic thinking is a cognitive distortion that occurs when people have a hard time weighing the likelihood of certain outcomes and believe that terrible or catastrophic outcomes—which are highly unlikely—become, in one’s mind, salient and extremely likely. (Tom Zaubler, MD, MPH).
Aside from the Gur, whom Astarion can manage to evade and even kill perfectly fine as just a spawn, we're not presented with any hints of another big bad in the vampire world that could possibly want Astarion. As such, there's not really any tangible threat, but rather a perceived threat that he believes is destined to darken his doorstep at any time.
His catastrophic thinking is a trauma response. His belief that he needs to be the most powerful being in the room as a way to be truly free is a trauma response. Cazador broke him down emotionally, mentally, physically, and sexually to make him believe that he was weak and trapped. Furthermore, that he remained trapped because he was too weak to do anything about it.
You see how this goes full circle into how Cazador's master punished Cazador for not being able to successfully usurp him? It places blame on the victim, allowing shame and helplessness to root that the abuser can manipulate. We know that Astarion definitely feels shame because he tells Tav that. For most of his dialogue until the boss fight, he's constantly bringing up that he did what Cazador wanted and acted obedient because he had no choice.
This is true, he had to act in self-preservation to survive and unfortunately that meant he had to be subservient. A few dialogue choices you can have your Tav pick can challenge Astarion and say he could have still tried, to which he'll rightfully tell Tav that Tav has no right to judge him for the choices he made to survive.
When Astarion encounters Sebastian in the dungeon, its made pretty obvious how much guilt and shame he truly feels. Furthermore, that for all Astarion's protesting and exclaiming that no one has the right to judge him, a part of him did believe that he didn't do enough to try and escape enslavement. A part of himself blamed himself and believed he allowed himself to be abused when, in reality, he was put in a horrible situation with very limited options. He did the best he could in the moment, with what information he had in those moments.
I also want to argue that who Astarion is when we meet him isn't his true self. It's who he had to become in order to survive Cazador. Astarion doesn't even know who his true self is because he didn't have the opportunity to explore his own likes and preferences. Cazador molded all of his spawn because he had a specific purpose for them.
Not only that, but since Cazador would have to more directly deal with these spawn since he used them as lackies, he also would have molded them to behave in ways to his preference so that he wouldn't find their presence unbearable and feel inclined to murder them out of annoyance. This is also where the Favored Spawn being separated and set on a pedestal comes into play. Those who could please him and play to his wants and needs had better benefits. If all of the spawn are acting in self-preservation, they would want to be favored and thus would want to adapt themselves to things Cazador liked and approved of.
This would mean learning to be cruel to those less fortunate and not doing anything as charity. This is the reason why Astarion approves of some questionable decisions Tav can make. Astarion learned his ideals and morality from Cazador because he had to so he could know how to please Cazador and stay in his master's good graces. After a while, even if you started off disagreeing, forcing yourself to act a certain way can become a habit that sticks with you. You convince yourself to enjoy it too so it's easier to swallow.
Astarion craves power because he knows that power is the quickest, easiest, and - what he believes - most effective way to prevent him from having to use that method ever again. It's logical to want power to solve that.
You said in your ask: "He wants to be powerful (protected by his own power too - his power being a means to self-preservation), he wants to be loved, seen, and free. Free of hunger, free to walk in the sun, free of Cazador. All these things are true regardless of the path you choose. But, they are all only attainable through ascension. When you ascend Astarion - he gets everything he wants and becomes who he truly is."
In the most literal of terms, yes, Ascension gives him all of those. However, since the basis of him believing he needs power to be free is rooted in fear, that's not actually really freedom. That is still his fear ruling over him.
There's a stark difference in what someone wants versus what they need. He wants power, to be seen, to be loved, and to be free. What he actually needs is security, stability, support, consistency, empathy, and autonomy. The things he wants is what he believes will solve the empty cups of what he needs, and he believes that because the only example he had on how to act to get what you want - until the events of the game - was Cazador. He literally had no other example of how to get your needs met except through selfishness, cruelty, force, manipulation, and abuse.
Again, I reiterate. The Astarion we first meet is not Astarion's true nature. Astarion's true nature was corrupted by his abuse from Cazador and the subsequent trauma that followed. If it had been his true nature, he would have happily been Cazador's subject because their true natures would have been in alignment.
It only becomes his true nature if he allows that trauma to define him and decides that he needs to embrace it rather than fight it. That is then what gets amplified because that fear that roots those wants becomes amplified.
Honestly, it's impossible to say what would be canon for Astarion because there's too many factors.
Studies have shown that having more supportive and positive influences, even if its later in life after leaving the abuser, tends to work in favor of the victim breaking the cycle of abuse. As such, I think that if you make a Tav who's core values are autonomy, consent, second chances, and redemption and somehow manage to get high enough approval that he'd even consider caring what they think; then its more likely that Astarion would reject Ascension due to observing how much softer, kinder, patient, and merciful Tav is.
But if its a Tav that has no interest in getting to know him beyond the surface or Tav doesn't exist at all, I honestly think he would end up going through with Ascension. Mostly because, to me, it seems like he didn't really bother to have more than surface level interactions with the other companions and the other companions really only ended up getting to know him better as a result to Tav managing to get past his masking. He does not lower his mask on his own accord, only after certain things are done and said by Tav.
Unfortunately, I just don't really think any of the other companions you can pick up in-game would really be able to provide support and determined consistency in the same way that players can make Tav. Hence I don't think he'd end up caring enough about any of them to ever start to think that perhaps freedom can be defined differently than the way he initially believes, and would view Ascension as the only right way to get his needs fulfilled.
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