#tw: toxic family

[shizucheese]

So you know how there are some people who like to attack/ vilify those who don't like Lae'zel and they try to paint it as a sexism thing or claim it's "because she's not conventionally attractive" or w/e and then bring up Astarion and Shadowheart "because they're racist too" in the same breath? I think I had a bit of an epiphany on this that needs to be shared. Putting content warnings here as well as in the tags just to make sure we're thoroughly covered: references to trama, physical and verbal abuse, SA, toxic family dynamics, religious trauma, and religious zealotry ahead. Also note that this doesn't just apply to people whose favorite character is Astarion and/ or Shadowheart, I'm just focusing on them since they're the ones people complaining about people not liking Lae'zel always bring up.

Okay, now with all that out of the way... I think the people who complain about people not liking Lae'zel but liking Astarion and Shadowheart and fixating on the whole "but they're racist too" argument miss some pretty major points regarding why a lot of people like Astarion and Shadowheart and how the way Lae'zel treats you in Act 1 is a major factor. A lot of people like Astarion and Shadowheart because on some level, they relate to them. Maybe they came from a household where one or more adult was abusive (physically or verbally), narcissistic, overbearing and/ or controlling. Or maybe it was a friend or romantic partner, or more than one, who used them and abused them and treated them like dirt. Or maybe they're an SA survivor. Or maybe they have religious trauma, and maybe that religious trauma is exacerbated by the fact that they have people in their lives who refuse to change their views, or even double down on them, even when shown evidence that contradicts their beliefs. Or maybe it's some combination of these.

Even the reasons why Astarion doesn't like the Gur and Shadowheart doesn't like Githyanki is steeped in trauma: it was a group of Gur beating Astarion nearly to death that lead to him being tricked by Cazador into becoming his spawn (and if he hadn't been turned into a vampire, he would have died), and Shadowheart makes multiple references to the fact that she saw githaynki cut down her comrades during her mission with some serious brutality.

A lot of these people who identify with Astarion and Shadowheart because of their own past traumas have promised themselves that they're never going to let anyone teat them that way, speak to them that way, try to control them, act like they own them, etc. etc. ever again. I know that's what happened to me. Now let's look at how Lae'zel treats you in Act 1, shall we? She's verbally abusive. When you try to talk to her, she simply replies to you with "Speak" as if you're some kind of dog. When she first propositions you for sex, she's still at her most abusive towards you, but because you fight good, she wants to lick your skin, taste your sweat, and "take what's hers." Even once the entire party knows--because we literally all see it in action with our own eyeballs--that the only thing preventing us from becoming either brain washed slaves to the Absolute or just straight up becoming mind flayers is the Astral Prism, she still keeps trying to take it and return it to the githyanki, even going so far as to try and kill Shadowheart for it. Even when her loyalty to her culture nearly gets her killed in the Zaithisk, and you tell her the true nature of it, she refuses to accept the reality and tries to blame the doctor, who she accuses of being a traitor, rather than accept that no, actually, it was working exactly as intended. It takes Voss showing up at our camp after everything else that had happened, and telling her the truth about Orpheus--something we had already been told about and found books covering before that point--to get her to even consider the fact that um actually maybe Vlaakith is evil (something that coming face to face with her and her nearly killing us didn't even convince her of).

All of these things I've described about Lae'zel in Act 1 are things that can be incredibly triggering to someone who has experienced any of the traumatic experiences I described above that has resulted in people identifying with and latching onto Astarion and Shadowheart. And like....does Lae'zel get better in Acts 2 and 3? Sure. But by that point, the damage has been done. And like in real life, Lae'zel isn't owed anything just because by Act 2 she's clearing the bear minimum of not being straight up abusive to your character. People aren't required to stop ranking her as their least favorite character, or straight up not liking her, after the way she treats you for the first third of the game. Especially not when that "first third" can easily be the part of the game you spend the most time in, with you spending dozens of hours in that part of the game, which also means they're spending the most time with Lae'zel before her character improves at all. Like I'm not saying that the ven diagram between "people who relate to Astarion and Shadowheart because of trauma" and "people who don't like Lae'zel" is a perfect circle, but the overlap is probably a way rounder oval shape than people who are too busy insisting that if she were a handsome man she would totally be popular appreciate. Before I wrap this up, I want to touch on that last part because I think it's important to address. I've seen people make that claim, but would Lae'zel really be more popular if she were a guy? I haven't seen a single person who makes this claim say they would like Lae'zel more if she were a guy. What I have seen is multiple people say in response that they would actually like her less if she had been a guy, which is honestly also how I feel.

Maybe this is something worth exploring in a separate post someday, but I would actually argue that the only reason Lae'zel works as a party member at all is because she's a woman. Flip her gender and she becomes an abusive man who treats you like you're beneath him and who says he wants to taste your skin and your sweat and claim ownership of your body as the first "nice" thing he ever says to you. As a woman who already has to deal with the general sexism of our society (including lawmakers trying to take ownership of our bodies and make medical decisions for us instead of leaving it between us and our doctors), especially a woman with multiple male-dominated hobbies, that's something I would find incredibly triggering--(even more so than I already found Lae'zel's sex proposition, which already made me super uncomfortable and had me thinking "wow imagine if a guy said this"). That's not "edgy and mysterious;" a man who treats you poorly but still thinks he's entitled to you/ your body, would be the poster boy for toxic masculinity, and I can promise you that more people would have taken issue with a character like that than they do with Lae'zel as she is.

Especially people with trauma like what I described at the beginning of this..

[thiscrimsonsoul]

Semi-Hiatus From 10/21 Until 10/28

{out of paprikash} Hello, everyone. I received some very bad family news early this morning. I'll elaborate more under a cut for those who want to know, since I know many people don't want to hear about personal issues on rp blogs, and that's totally okay. I want all my blogs to be safe spaces for everyone. But the upshot is, I may not have very much time to write in the upcoming week, so I'll only be working on blogs whose characters I have a lot of muse for. I’ll leave @tarnishedxknight open, since I have a lot of muse for those characters, and I might write my Resident Evil muses (@youmissedone, @checkxmaster, and @freewillacquired) on their scheduled Wednesday (10/25) if time/muse allows. All other blogs, I will likely skip this week.

It’s hard for me to gauge, because sometimes when I get very upset/stressed, I want to write as a comfort/escape, but at other times I can’t even make words. There may be days when I write a lot and others when I write nothing. I’m sorry for anyone waiting for a reply, but all of this was very unexpected. I’m going to say I’ll be back next Saturday (10/28), but if that changes I'll let you know. Thanks so much for understanding. In the meantime, I hope you all are doing well. <3

Alright so... I don't want to go into a lot of details and overshare and make people uncomfortable, so I'll just quickly summarize what's going on.

I have a very toxic grandmother (she's 93) that me and my dad share time with my aunt with. She lives with us for 6 months out of the year and with her for 6 months, in a 2-2-4-4 breakdown. My grandma is so damaging to the mental health of whoever is taking care of her, and she greatly limits your freedom and ability to have a life because she can't be left alone for very long at all which is hard to deal with with work and whatnot, so we have to share time to keep our mental health from getting too bad. She causes my dad and I anxiety, depression, etc., but I won't go into detail as to all the reasons why. It's... a long story.

Anyway, Halloween is our happy time of year, because we love the season, we do a lot for it, and grandma is gone from August to December. Well... my aunt called today. She was just diagnosed with cancer and will need various treatments, so she can't take care of grandma anymore. We are getting her back two months early, we have to take down all our decorations for Halloween (she's very Christian and hates it), and we've had to cancel all our plans for Halloween and my birthday (some of which we had tickets and reservations we can't get refunds for), because when she's here, we can't leave the house for very long or go very far.

So at the height of when we were at our happiest and ready for Halloween and whatever else, we have to suddenly kindof... shut it all down... and accept back into our lives before we're ready this toxic person we were supposed to have a break from. And there will be no more breaks in the future, that's the worst part. Well, my aunt having cancer is the worst part, but you know what I mean. It's just all been a shock for us in so many ways.

*sigh* So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you for caring enough to do so, you deserve all the good things and I hope they come to you. I'll be okay, I just have to process everything, accept my new normal, somehow get through it. And I have to hope my aunt will be okay, forget about Halloween, and forget anything else me and my dad wanted to do for the foreseeable future. I am also getting laid off soon, probably after next semester according to my boss, so I need to find a new job. With grandma living with us all the time and my dad needing help to take care of her, I am extremely limited by what jobs I can look for, so that's another big source of anxiety. I just have to find a way through this, because I don't have a choice.

Again, thanks for understanding, and hopefully I can sort through this all in my head, get done everything that needs to get done in the next few days, and be ready to come back to my regular rp schedule next weekend. But like I said, I'll let everyone know if that changes.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #956

CW: discrimination, arguing, bad parent/child relationship.

"YOU CAN'T JUST DATE A ROBOT!" Parent screeched, throwing their arms out angrily.

"AND WHY NOT?!" Human yelled back, too frustrated to be terrified of the consequences anymore. "WHAT DOES IT MATTER TO YOU? I'M AN ADULT! I CAN DATE WHOEVER I WANT!"

"HOW ARE YOU GOING TO START A FAMILY?! AND HOW-"

Human didn't bother listening as their parent went on another insensitive rant and instead moved to the doorway. Parent followed after them, shouting all the while.

The human ignored them, grabbed their shoes and jacket, and left the house in tears. They ran away to the nearby park and sat down on an empty bench. After a minute or two of just sitting there and contemplating what to do, they fished their phone out of their pocket and dialed a familiar number.

"Hello~. How are-" Robot paused on the other end, concerned by the sniffles and shaky breathing. "Human? Are you okay?"

"…H-Hey, Robot… Can I stay at your place for a while?" Human muttered, hugging themself with their free arm. "I'm at the park right now…"

"Of course, of course! I'll be there in twenty!" The robot assured, already on the move and grabbing their car keys. Their voice softened as they locked their house and ran over to their car. "Hey, don't hang up, yeah? Tell me what happened."

[never-took-a-lesson]

Forte’s Awful Parents Highlight Reel

1738

It was all grey and dark: the overcast sky outside with the pouring rain, and the inside of the estate with its sparse lights and antiquated furniture. The house of the Forte’s had at one point, many generations ago, been blessed with a grand pipe organ, but the once magnificent instrument had since fallen into disrepair; old, badly-tuned and dusty. It too was grey and dark like everything else in young Maximillian Forte’s world.

 The child left the old organ behind him and quietly went treading down the halls. He didn’t usually seek out his parents. In fact, he usually avoided the sitting room where they often were. But he was certain he had something to say that would make them happy. Nonetheless, young Forte hovered in the doorway, staring at the two chairs silhouetted starkly against the glow of the fireplace.

 “Do you intend to stand there like a slack jawed commoner all day or are you going to speak, boy?” droned his father, Maximillian V.

 Forte’s father was as thin as he, but everything about him was more angular and haggard. Forte ducked his head as he approached the two chairs. His father’s eyes were like chips of ice. His mother didn’t acknowledge him at all. The child looked at his hands as he wrung them.

 “Um, yes sir. Um, of course father.”

“And you must do something about that constant ‘um’ tick. You sound like a fool with your incessant mumbling. Be confident and assertive,” Maximillian V pried.

 Forte lifted his chest and chin to gaze down at the man before him.

 “I have come to give news,” he stated.

 “Uppity child.  Do not look down your nose at me.  You’ll never find a house to take you if you prance around like you own everything.”

The child immediately shrank.

 “Um, yes father.”

“Dense boy,” his father chided, placing a bony hand against his skull to massage his temple, “What is so important you have to interrupt an adult’s conversation?”

“Well I— I’ve completed my first piece, o-on our family organ, father.”

Maximillian V pursed his lips with a tiny smile, nodding once in a condescending way.

 “So you have, boy. You are a true Forte,” he growled.

 Forte began to let his face relax as his father slowly turned his glassy eyes to his mother. Her face, once a soft beautiful face, now creased with wrinkles of hardship, was still in the flickering fire light.

 “Did you hear that Selina?  The child has created his first song,” creaked Maximillian V.

 Forte felt his lips pull into a smile from pride. Her toxic green eyes flickered his way but as soon as it came it was gone.

“Tell the thing to stop smiling at me so pathetically,” she droned.

Forte slouched.

“Do you want to hear it?” Forte tried.

“No,” his mother said, “Stop talking.”

Her eyes looked into nothing. Young Forte stood before the fire and yet he felt cold. Empty. He just wanted someone to care.

 “Now boy,” his father spoke, a fox-like smile stretched across his narrow jaw, his fangs gleaming, “Did you play deeply with your emotions like I told you?  Did you feel anything special as you played?”

“Um. I think so?” he tilted his head and said, “There was this warm tingling in my fingers. In my head I saw… green?”

He looked to his parents. They were staring into him. He wanted to back away but felt paralyzed at the same time. They would tell him he was speaking nonsense. Maximillian V arose and so too did Selina. Forte felt his father’s hand on his back as he was ushered from the room.

 “Play your song, child.”

Forte was in shock and before he knew it, he was sitting before the old organ. He prepared himself to be told all the flaws in his piece, then he began playing his little ode about the rain. As he became engrossed in his music, he let himself feel deeply. Again there came the sensation. Warm and tingly. As he eased his eyes open, he thought the grey world was briefly green.

 Reluctantly, he turned to see his parent’s reactions. Instead of being met with scowls, he saw his father’s narrow smirk. His mother— she was actually looking at him with interest.

“Maximillian. The boy is magical,” Selina rasped to her husband.

“Yes,” hissed Maximillian V, “I saw his eyes.”

Forte felt afraid. Magic?  Witches and warlocks were wicked. They were burned at the stake.

“My boy, at last magic has been restored to our blood,” his father purred.

 “You will grow up,” Selina breathed.

 “And you, my warlock son, will sire a new and glorious return to power for our line!”

It went without saying, but the child was confused. He wanted to shrink away but the organ was at his back. His father approached. Forte could just about whimper;

“Father, is my magic evil?”

His father lifted a palm, his smile stretching further across his jaw, “Evil?  Of course not!  My son, this is what I always wanted of you.”

This… was?  Forte watched in wonder as his father looked at him with glee. Years of trying to make his parents happy and finally it had happened. Although, Forte wasn’t sure what he’d done exactly.

 “But I didn’t see anything. And what can I do with my magic?” asked young Forte.

 His father hissed, “All will mature in due time. You must keep playing your music and it will blossom within you.”

A skeletal hand came and patted the boy’s black-haired head like a dog.

 “You may partake in whatever activities you wish for tonight, my boy.”

Young Forte was stunned to silence. He never got to make choices before. Decisions were dictated for him by his father. He was unsure how to respond.

“You will let Maximillian VI become spoiled,” Selina growled to her husband.

 Forte then realized he was sure this was the first time he heard his mother address him by name.

 “Never,” his father droned before turning back to the child, “A reward for our special little warlock…. One day, when you’ve grown into a beautiful songbird, you will bring prosperity to the Forte name again.”

~

1747

“Stop it.”

The young man felt his chest convulse with another sob.  His throat ached and his mouth felt dry.  Despite the commands his father made, he couldn’t stop, only grab his shoulders with white knuckles and curl into a tighter ball.

“Oh, my poor baby,” his mother said in a voice more condescending than sympathetic.

“Stop coddling him,” his father hissed, “It’s because of you the boy is so pathetic.”

Unaware of his father turning his attention back on him, the young man let his head rest against his knees, seeing only blackness as he closed his eyes.

“Enough,” his father chided, “You must be strong.”

His son didn’t respond and continued to whimper softly.

“Your emotions are the reason for your pain.  My son, you must learn to repress these things, for the sake of your destiny.  Take your plights and turn them into your weapons.  Your magic will only grow more powerful through torment.  You see… this is a good thing.”

~

1748

The thin young composer laid curled up in a couch in a sitting room. His body was sore and he clutched a pillow against his chest. Intermittently he would whimper slightly into the backrest of the couch. 

“You made me miserable, Maximillian.”

The voice had come from someone else in the room: a woman sitting facing a window. 

“You and your brothers and sisters,” she continued. 

Selina’s inflection was near nonexistent, and, though her eyes faced the courtyard outside, it looked as if she was registering nothing. 

“None of you should have ever been born.”

Her son on the couch retreated tighter into the fetal position. Maximillian desperately nuzzled his face against the pillow to try and soothe himself. 

“I’m miserable too,” he muttered. 

Letting his cheek rest against the soft object, he waited for her to tell him to stop mumbling. There was nothing. Maybe she didn’t hear. Maximillian knew she never had comforting words for him, but he still pried for his mother to react to him, no matter what that reaction was. 

“D-do you know that?” the young man asked, louder. 

The response was quick and aggressive, like she was swatting away a bug. 

“I do know. I just don’t care. I could not care less about any of your emotions.”

Maximillian cuddled the throw pillow. 

“Yes mother,” he said. 

Something finally appeared in her dull olive eyes. She’d been trying so hard to forget the boy was there: forget he mattered. But that word to her was confrontational. 

“What did you call me?”

Selina hated to be reminded that the young man had come from her womb. She hated to think of her children. 

“Um, nothing.”

Maximillian’s pathetic response assured her there would be no further confrontation from him. Yet, words still slipped out of her before she returned to her comfortable haze:

“I stopped being capable of being a mother a long time ago. I am no one’s mother.”

~

Winter, 1750

“You’re not about to leave this room looking like that.”

Young Maximillian could hardly keep standing, body sore and head spinning.  One hand was extended to grip the doorframe, its thin fingers covered in frail skin that was so white it may as well have been transparent.  When he mustered up the motivation to take his supporting hand away and cross the room, his father, who’d been the one to make the initial comment, scoffed quietly.

“You had better not be turning into a drunkard.  Your mother and I have a reputation to uphold,” his father scolded, “I will not have you wareing away your novelty; that’s the only thing keeping you with this house.  We’ve invested too much in you for you to ruin it for us.  Stand up straight, boy.  You are the future of the Fortes.”

Forte felt his body sway slightly before he brought his chest aloft and his chin level purely by reflex.  He saw his father’s cold eyes scan him as the taller, more haggard man stalked past.

“Pray to God you’re not sick,” his father said as he started turning his head away.

Suddenly Forte stiffened himself further, snarling.  A spark of green illuminated his eyes.

The elder stepped back with shock.  His son nearly never was outwardly rebellious.  He didn’t know what suddenly made him so brave but he had to nip that behavior in the bud right away.  And he knew exactly what to say to make that happen.

“How dare you threaten me with your magic.  If it was not for me– our line– you would not have your powers at all.  Be humble.  Be grateful.  If not for us, you would not be here, with your beautiful clothes and a beautiful home,” his father hissed.

“I’m just a thing to these nobles, not a person.”

“Oh yes.  Poor fragile child and his sorrow,” his father turned and began to take his leave, “Well boy, nothing makes a stronger man than pain.  If you show fortitude and obedience to your masters, perhaps you’ll be spared the hellfire that surely would await all other warlocks.”

Forte heard the door shut. He felt all his weight return to him and slumped where he stood.

I’ll die if I stay here.

There came a severe frown and he began to slowly bring his head up, green briefly illuminating in his gaze as he looked at the door.

If I’m going to Hell anyway, he thought, What incentive do I have, father?

~

1750

Forte felt like a pane of glass, spiderwebbed with fractures, seconds away from crumbling. But everything was so happy all around; eating, revelry, drinking. And he, the prodigal child, at the center of it with his instrument and his music. His body ached but still he performed, like a trained animal.  The amused guests and how they watched him; it was disgusting. There was no regard for his humanity. He was just a lovely little thing to gawk at; a pretty songbird in a cage; a conversation piece. 

Oh, how the parents who sold him would soak up the prestige: the vapid compliments his owner would receive for breaking the warlock and getting him to do tricks: Forte could not stand another minute. 

The playing stopped. Heads turned. His parents scowled. The young man’s eyes glared out in challenge and in finality, an ethereal glare overtaking them. His fingers slammed down into the keyboard and the room was bathed in green as his magic struck out. 

They thought they’d tamed the dragon they brought into their castle. They hadn’t.

...

Wet hair smacked the side of his face as he turned around.  The windows of the palace still shone with a ghostly green glow.  Forte didn’t have the time to really consider the gravity of what he’d just done.  Questions of morality would slow him down and he knew he couldn’t afford to hesitate.  It was no secret what became of warlocks who were more dangerous than what they were worth.  Forte moved backwards on the balcony in the rising storm.  He watched the doors for any sign of pursuit.

Seeing no movement, he rounded to search for a way out.  His eyes grew wide as he realized he’d backed into a dead end.  There was nowhere to go but over the railings.  Below him was a flooding river.  Hyperventilating, he tried to consider his options.  His head however was clouded with images of his imminent punishment.

“Look what you’ve done.”

Circling in place again, he could make out a figure coming from the darkness and onto the balcony.  Father.

“Oh my poor, unhappy boy: why do you torture yourself so?  I have provided you a place in the dark, cruel world and this is how you thank me?”

The railings bumped Forte’s upper legs and he knew he was truly trapped.  Paralysis creeped from his feet to the rest of his body as he could only bring himself to tremble as the taller man drew closer.

“Haven’t you realized by now that there really is no escape from your sorrow?”

“I can’t--” Forte’s voice barely broke through as he forced himself to speak, “I can’t live like this anymore.  I was just a thing to them; an object; not a person.  I-- I have to get away.”

“You are not meant for the world out there.  My son, this was your best possible life.  You had purpose.”

Eyes cold and blue like ice kept the young man firmly in place.  Maximillian V watched his son shake as tears began to stream down his face, and yet he felt nothing.  The boy brought it on himself.  His son needed to be punished for what he did.  His hand tightened around the hilt behind his back as he brought his other arm out to stroke his son’s sopping wet hair.

“Oh dear.  You had such hopes and dreams, didn’t you?  How naive,” the elder man didn’t hide that he mocked his son, “Don’t worry.  You can amend your mistakes-- and you will ensure the Forte line continues on, whether you like it or not.”

The sky became alight and young Forte caught the glow of metal at his father’s side.  Adrenaline flooded his veins when he realized what he saw; a dagger.  There was a spark of interest as his father realized what he saw.

“This?  Simply a persuasive tool.  I need you alive, silly child.”

There was a hiss from his father as suddenly Forte jumped to stand atop the slippery railing.  The rush of the flooding river below filled his senses as he glanced down.  He looked into his father’s eyes to see a hateful fire burning under his cold expression.

“Where do you think you’ll go?  Come down and leave with me; it’s your only option.”

By then the elder man was beginning to lose his composure.  His time was running out.  There was stirring from the palace.  If they got their hands on his son, then all the years he put into crafting the perfect heir would be for nothing and the Forte lineage would die with him.

“Do away with these childish notions!  You are a warlock; a monster!  The sooner you come to terms with your fate, the sooner you will stop suffering. Do you expect my pity?  You brought your torment upon yourself for daring to resist your place.  Life is hell, young Forte; accept it!”

The sky roared again and the blade glinted in the lightning.  Forte took one step back and found the world turning around him.  He saw the sky as he plummeted before the shock of the cold water hit him.  When his head hit the surface, he could hear the furious cry;

“No!  Stupid boy!”

[the-herdier]

I personally think that Kristoph could be a good brother when he was in a good mood. As long as he felt in control and his schemes were all going his way, he was friendly. Loving. Perhaps even funny. Altogether charming. But as soon as he sensed he was losing control of a situation, out came Mr. Hyde. And this side of him could be downright terrifying. The narcissistic rage we saw during his breakdown was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to how horrid he could be. Growing up, Klavier would find himself having to constantly walk on eggshells to avoid seeing Kristoph's nastier side.

[c-r-ash-crash]

Pshycing yourself up to leave a toxic family is full of little griefs. You have your big grief of realizing that the people that you love were never there in the first place. But then you have the little non-senseical, inconsequential griefs.

Some of them are bigger than others, like grieving that you have to say goodbye to your younger brother as well as your parents, or like realizing that you're going to have to learn to be an adult all by yourself if you want to be able to live a life that is truly yours.

But most of them are smaller, like grieving that you may have to leave behind furniture you've grown attached to, or like grieving that you're going to most likely have to cut out extended family too, even if you like them.

It doesn't make sense. It's irrational. These things are inconsequential, surface level. You should have no reason to grieve them. And yet you do. Because at the end of the day, these things were fundamentally yours. You knew what they meant, you knew how the fit into your life. Even if they were a mark and symbol of the very toxicity you are trying so hard to leave.

And it is because fundamentally, you understand them. And in that understanding, there is safety. It's scary to go somewhere where you don't understand, even if you know that it will be inherently safer. You grieve because you are losing a fundamental piece of yourself.

And that's okay.

You will grieve. You will find be scared. You will have long nights and hard days. But you will heal. You will find your courage. You will have nights filled with laughter and days filled with people who love you.

You will get through it. I promise.

[bylightofdawn]

Bruh, I am definitely going through something mentally this week.

I accidentally started re-reading old Naruto fanfic faves and now I've moved onto daring to dip my toes into reading newer stuff I've never read before. If I open Stormborn/Backslide or any of blackkat's old (but undeniably phenomenal) Naruto longfics someone take my tablet away from me.

I refuse to relapse a third time into this fucking series.

In other news, I've been watching Brooklyn 99 on netflix and that's been helping my mental health somewhat. Things with my aunt's estate are fucked. They can't find her will, her home is apparently a hoarders disaster which isn't surprising because she apparently was really sick but never bothered to convey that to us. She knew she was apparently dying and gave her animals away to a friend but...didn't bother to call her own sister and tell her she was near the end of her life which is so fucked I cannot even wrap my brain around it.

Who would choose to die alone? Who would choose to nurse grudges to their literal grave rather than try and have one last conversation with your family? I just cannot mentally wrap my brain around it. Cause yeah, she and my mom weren't getting along but she didn't tell my brother either and he's the only one she seemed to like. She always looked down on my because I didn't have a college education and (from my POV seemed to think I was the same white trash as my mom which...I'm not).

It's wild to me. And I feel so bad for my mom and my brother because I fully expect we'll find a will eventually and she will have left all her stuff to the guy she gave her animals to and he's just waiting for mom and my brother to do all the heavy lifting and grunt work because he can't be arsed to do it.

My brother has to go back to California tomorrow, I don't know if mom is coming back from Houston or what. I really don't want her to have to deal with this shit without a buffer.

I want to drive out to Austin to see him before he leaves but he kinda gave me the impression he didn't want me to do that. I might work overtime tomorrow because they are offering it and I need the extra cash. That and it'll help keep my bad brain thoughts from spiraling.

I just started a stupid, horrifically cliche BL J-drama on Netflix called "I cannot reach you" because I cannot handle thinking too deeply on anything right now.

[hollydelgado]

NPCs (humans)

Rafael Estrada - cashier at the store Holly works at, one of Holly’s friends. Has no idea about the vampire stuff.

Óliver Delgado - Holly's brother still talks to Holly. He relays messages to Holly's dad sometimes as well to help mend the broken relationship.

Ximena Giacometti - Holly's mother that isn't on speaking terms with Holly. They have a volatile relationship to a point of hatred.

Ulisse Giacometti - Holly's stepfather that Holly barely knows or speaks too because of their mother.

[foxlungz]

I will always be so fucking angry for what they turned me into

[scvannahpierce]

New York City is a big place but [ SAVANNAH PIERCE ], a [ 25 ] year-old [ CIS-FEMALE ] has made it their home in [ MANHATTAN ]. In this city you can be anything you want to be and [ SHE ] is a [ MODEL ]. Described by loved ones as [BRIGHT, ORGANIZED, AND AMBITIOUS] but those wanting to bring them down might say they are [VENGEFUL, RESERVED, AND GOSSIP] but I guess that is up to everyone else to decide! You never know who you’re going to meet around here, but weirdly they look like [ DANIELLE CAMPBELL ] - what are the odds? [clem, 22, her/she, CST, none]

STATS

TW: EATING DISORDER MENTION, BODY DYSMORPHIA, TOXIC FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS, MANIPULATION MENTIONS 

early history:

On January 21, 1996, Savannah was born. She had a mother high up in the corporate world and all the expectations that went along went with it.  She had a blissful, privileged, easy early childhood; from her first day, it was clear that the girl was spoilt rotten. She was the couple’s perfect baby girl and could do absolutely nothing wrong.  She was the couple’s sole daughter and their little princess. So, she was to be treated as such. She knew she had them wrapped around her finger and used it to her advantage. She could ask for something, and not even two hours later, there it would be. She spent her childhood ordering those around her to do what she wanted to do, and if they told her no, they were in for it.  She would throw temper tantrums and scream until she got what she wanted.  No has never been a word that the girl understood.

late childhood:

At eleven years old, her perfect family fell apart. She found out about her half-sister Avery, which flipped her life. During this time,  Savannah had matured. She no longer relied on tantrums to achieve what she wanted; instead, she focused on her skills of manipulation and deceitfulness. Savannah knew how to make things harder than what was needed, and she was stubborn enough to do it. 

She made her way through high school, where she was effectively the queen bee. She knew how to handle herself and the others around her to make her stay on top of the social pyramid.  She was too smart for her own good and could think about two steps ahead.  She prided herself on not allowing anyone to dethrone her. Though behind the scenes, Her mother controlled every aspect of her life. Savannah needed to be perfect at all times. Perfect grades, clothes, makeup, hair, and daughter. Though the perfect life she seemed to live was a false idea. A false idea that she kept up for the image of the family. Her mother had raised her to be a mini-version of herself. If things were astray, it would lead to comments such as “ i work so hard for you, but you don’t care.“ The comments she would hear broke her because, deep down, all she wanted to do was make her parents proud of the person she was becoming. As the comment continued to come, Savannah developed an unhealthy relationship with food and body dysmorphia. She wanted to look perfect but couldn’t help but find every real and imaginary flaw. She never brought up how she was feeling to anyone because she needed to keep up her image of her self-confidence, and confronting the issues made her feel weak and vulnerable. The pressure of joining the corporate like her mother was strong; it wasn’t what she wanted to do but what she needed to do.

current:

After graduating with a bachelor’s in business management from Columbia University and gave up her on trying to live up to her mothers expectations of joining the family business. After much debate, it was settled that Savannah would be starting her career as a model. Her parents reacted in the same fashion as she did when hearing the word no. They became angry, telling her that modeling was a distraction and she needed to grow up. That only frustrated Savannah more and made her dig her heels in further. The family fought and Savannah was cut off. However, she continued to keep up appearances. She wasn’t about to let anyone know her struggles.

[monsterdramahub]

Nil bitchslapping old design Roja.  Nil is her mom btw.  Roja probably mouthed off tbh.

Roja is an awful piece of shit but maybe she’s a little sympathetic.  Maybe.

[unkownknowledge]

Anyone have any fics I can read where a character comforts the reader for toxic parents

[the-herdier]

Klavier genuinely not knowing how to feel after Kristoph was convicted. Relief that his brother had for once been held accountable for his actions and could no longer abuse, gaslight, and manipulate him or anyone else? Grief that he'd all-but lost a brother? They had had their good times, after all... Should he love Apollo for setting him free, or hate him for taking away his only sibling? He just... didn't know.

[cats-depression-diary]

I have my father's rage inside of me. And it's getting bigger and bigger, I can't stop it this time. It's killing me, I don't wanna turn into him, I hate this man sooo much, he has ruined my life.

[pain-is-my-game]

One of the worst realizations that I have ever made is realizing that all I ever wanted was to be loved by my parents. I never would've turned out like this if they just loved me unconditionally.