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#Cw abuse
nekropsii · 2 days
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HAPPY 4/13!! Here's a partial Alpha Troll Lore Iceberg to celebrate, as asked for by fans and followers!!
All information in here is completely true, and this isn't even everything I could think of off the top of my head!! Have fun perusing, and I hope you learn a thing or two!!
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cuubism · 2 days
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Physical Therapy, Part 8
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A few days later, Hob goes to Dream’s old flat. He wanted to go immediately, but he needed time to calm himself. If he went to confront Dream’s ex immediately, he’d be too likely to do something inadvisable out of anger.
Truthfully, he’s still so angry.
He can control himself, though. So he knocks on the door, instead of taking it off its hinges.
Dream’s ex-boyfriend opens the door with an annoyed look on his face. But jumps back, startled, at the sight of Hob. He recognizes Hob, then. Good.
“I’m here for Dream’s things,” he says. No need to prolong this with pleasantries.
“His things?” says the ex, with disdain, like Dream’s possessions mean nothing to him. “Why? He’ll come back anyway. Eventually.”
“No, he won’t.”
Ex-boyfriend leans against the door frame, smirking. Maybe Hob should have just punched him. “You going to stop him?”
Hob takes a deep, long breath. No. He actually wouldn’t try to stop him. He’s not going to force Dream to do anything. He’d try to convince him otherwise, though. And if he can be a good enough boyfriend, then maybe Dream will never feel the need to go back to some horrible place, looking for love.
“I don’t try to make people stay in my house,” he snaps. “His things. Now. You think I won’t punch you again?”
So much for being calm.
For the first time, that smirking look slips. “It’s all worthless anyway,” he says.
Hob grits his teeth. The stupidest thing is, even for someone who doesn’t care about Dream himself, Dream’s art is objectively not worthless. Hob had looked it up once. Dream’s paintings sell for thousands of pounds. Sometimes tens of thousands. It’s not just Dream’s passion that he’s so jealous and disparaging about, but his livelihood, his basic ability to support himself.
“Are you going to let me take it?” he says. “Or are we going to have a problem?”
Ex-boyfriend looks annoyed—and uncomfortable?—but finally just gestures Hob in. “Fine. Whatever.”
Inside, the flat is… kind of cold. It’s not homey. He can’t imagine Dream living here; he can barely imagine Dream living in his own flat, which is likewise utterly empty of decoration. But there are spots on the wall, here, that are empty in a more conspicuous way. Like Dream’s art might once have hung there.
Hob doesn’t know the entirety of what he’s looking for, but he thinks he’ll be able to identify most of Dream’s things by sight. And indeed—with Dream’s ex trailing him like an irritable ghost—he finds some of what must be Dream’s clothes in the closet, and Dream’s sketchbooks and books and paperwork all stacked in boxes. Like they’d been on their way out.
So much for “he’s definitely coming back.”
Dream’s ex doesn’t stop him as he packs stuff up and gathers it by the door. But as Hob looks at what he’s managed to collect, there’s obviously something missing. Pieces that were still drying and pieces that were too large to carry, Dream had said, when speaking of what he'd left behind.
“Where’s the rest of his art?”
Now ex-boyfriend does look uncomfortable. A sinking feeling settles in Hob’s stomach. “Why would I keep that shit, anyway? I told you, it’s worthless."
“It’s not worthless,” Hob snaps, but this time his voice breaks. He scrubs a hand through his hair. Looks at the empty spaces on the wall.
He tries to imagine what happened. Did he just toss it all? Coldly? Methodically? No, Hob doesn’t think so. If he had he would have just gotten rid of the rest of Dream’s stuff, too.
What he can imagine is a fit of rage, with his real target, Dream, having fled, and only the supposed distraction, his life’s work, left behind.
Dream's ex-boyfriend is watching him warily. He seems nervous about what Hob might do, like Hob is an unpredictable animal. Good. Maybe he'll understand how Dream's felt. “You got what you came for,” he says. “Just go.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to decide if I'm going to kill you first.”
Dream’s ex takes a startled step back. And Hob really, really wants to just fucking bash this guy’s head in. But he has to restrain himself. Not just because he doesn’t want to get arrested for assault, though that’s also better avoided.
No. It’s really that he doesn’t want to be another violent man in Dream’s life.
As satisfying as it was to throw that first punch in Dream’s defense, making it physical now would be a different matter. If he shows that he’s capable of resorting to real violence to get what he wants, or to punish someone for something, Dream is always going to have that in the back of his head when he looks at him. There will always be a tiny corner of his brain harboring the fear that that impulse could turn on him.
He’s already kind of pushing boundaries by being here at all, and only getting away with it because Dream didn’t actually tell him not to go, just that he himself didn’t want to. God his blood is heated and this asshole definitely deserves to be taught a lesson but it’s not worth putting a crack in Dream’s trust in him.
“You’re lucky I care more about what he thinks of me,” he finally says. Then he gathers all of Dream’s stuff, and makes himself leave. Dream’s ex, wisely, doesn’t say anything else as he goes.
Dream is in the middle of trying to paint when Hob arrives. Or rather, in the middle of staring at a canvas, wishing he could paint. He’d bought a large canvas in the hopes that he might try to do something in his old style, something more detailed and precise. But he’s been too intimidated by the prospect to even begin mixing colors.
He keeps finding himself staring at all the empty space in his flat, at walls that should be hung with art. But he doesn’t have any of his large pieces left. They were all sold prior to… the incident… or left behind. He only has the smaller ones that were in his portfolio.
He’s been finding himself regretting selling those pieces. He had never been bothered by it before, but now he wants to track down the buyers and beg for them back. But he won't. Some of those paintings had sold for tidy sums, which is the reason he can afford this flat despite not having a steady job. And he has no guarantee of being able to sell something at that rate again.
He at least has photographs of everything he’s ever sold. The same can’t be said of what he’d kept for himself, or left unfinished.
He startles at the knock on the door, but remembers: Hob said he would come over today.
He still hasn’t been able to shake the need to block the door whenever he’s home, so he has to shove aside a bookcase before he can let Hob in. When he opens the door, Hob is carrying a box, and wearing a pained smile. “Here,” he says, giving it to Dream. “I have more in the car.”
He disappears back down the stairs before Dream can question him, and Dream sets the heavy box down on the kitchen island.
It’s full of his sketchbooks.
For several moments he just stares at them, not daring to touch. How did Hob— did he go to Dream’s flat?
Hob comes back with another two boxes, precariously balanced, while Dream is still staring at the first one. These, it seems, are full of documents, and personal effects, and some of his favorite books.
“How—?” he tries to ask, nearly struck dumb.
“I went to your house,” Hob says. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have. But you deserve to have your things.”
At first, he is only shocked to think that someone would go to such lengths for him. Then, Dream feels a surge of hope. Perhaps—
But. No. Of all things, Hob would have known to grab his artwork. He would have lead with that.
“…Oh,” Dream says quietly, looking down.
“Yeah,” Hob says, face falling. “I’m so sorry, Dream, that’s all that was there— I mean I still have some of your clothes in the car, but—”
“I love you,” Dream says, tearing up. Hob actually went back. To get his things. Even when Dream said it wasn’t worth doing.
When he looks up again, Hob looks stunned. And only then does Dream realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t want to take it back. It doesn’t matter if he truly meant that he’s in love with Hob. Because either way, he loves Hob. And no one has ever loved him like this, like it was easy. And without question.
“I—” Hob stammers. “I mean it’s really not—”
Dream takes his hands and squeezes them, and Hob stops talking. “It is,” Dream says. “It is a big deal. To me.”
“Well,” Hob finally manages, voice still tight. “I want you to be happy, Dream. You deserve that.”
It’s not a sentiment Dream is used to hearing directed towards him. But hearing it from Hob makes him feel like… maybe it can be. Maybe it should be.
Dream kisses him, still holding his hands. He feels himself smile into the kiss. Another thing he’s not used to doing, but it feels good.
Hob smiles too, as he cradles Dream’s face between his hands. And even though Hob wasn’t able to recover his art, even though his ex probably destroyed it—which is agonizing to think about—in this one moment, Dream is… happy.
It's so strange that it almost hurts. But he thinks he’s actually happy.
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fumifooms · 3 days
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Canines
The hand that feeds
Mickbell Tomas & Kuro Dungeon Meshi
^ 1: Ink-the-artist, I will remove my teeth / 2: Margaret Atwood / 3: C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy / 4: Mitski, I’m your man / 5: Ojibwa, I love you like a rotten dog / 6: KotOR II / 7: Stardrop, Everything that’s ever been mine is covered in teeth marks / 8: Sodikken, People Eater / 9: Mitski, I’m your man / 10: maxime., The life and death of a dog / 11: Mitski, I bet on losing dogs / 12: maxime., The life and death of a dog / 13: hun, I did not bite with Malice / 14: C. Michael Davis, Don't Pet the Dragon / 15: Mitski, I’m your man
v 1: Early versions of the myth as in aeschylus orestes / 2: Ink-the-artist, I will not remove my teeth
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#Yeahh i’m workng on a mickbell & kabru party analysis oops#I’d bleed for anything if it held me the right way. Even teeth#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#Mickbell tomas#kuro#mickuro#mickrin#It’s on topic in my heart#The red means I love you…#The duality between the care & devotion and the hurt & isolation is really what gets to me#Traumabonded kittens highkey#Tw#cw#cw abuse#tw abuse#Web weaving#web weave#webweaving#I hit 30 pics :( would have added more if i could#Idk even anymore… Pls tell me you see the vision#Mick obvi loves Kuro a lot but this was meant to focus on the unhealthy side if that wasn’t obvious. Abuse tactic of isolation etc etc#People always leave. doesn’t matter how or why but his parents his sister everyone he’s never enough to stay#and that’s why he thinks he has to trick Kuro into thinking Mickbell’s the whole world or he’ll discover that there’s more out there.#Stuff that’s worth leaving him for. He has to make the world scary and unknown and not pay him and not let him have connections#That’s why he doesn’t want people to have a choice!! Either Mickbell doesn’t care about you or he’ll make sure you can never be without him#and there being a third option/outcome in this freaks him out!!!#Some of these should be called ‘No Title’ instead but I have bad academic crediting etiquette this looks cooler sorry#He’s scared of course he bites. There’s only throwing bones when feeding a stray. So bare your teeth and chew me up
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I hate Webs tbh. It’s mentioned he was never MEAN to the DoD, but he was never nice either.
Kid/dragonet/EGG-napped Tsunami.
DIDNT TEACH HER AQUATIC though it could’ve saved her life.
didn’t stand up to Kestrel and Dune
enabled Glory’s abuse
.
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Random rant/vent from Twitter I wrote that I need to get off my chest since it's been stewing in my brain for awhile now about a certain character from a specific infamous indie pilot turned into a show:
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its-your-mind · 4 months
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I really really really love how the show is depicting Gabe. In the books, Percy doesn't think much about Gabe - he sucks, he's a dick, and he's smelly. Percy doesn't understand why his mom stays with him, but he’s a kid - he doesn't put too much thought into the ins-and-outs of the relationship. It's not even until the end of the book that he realizes that Gabe's been actually hitting Sally.
And so all we have for him now is the time we spend with Gabe at the start, and…
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This is supposed to be his and Sally's apartment. Sally's the only one who brings in income, but the whole house is Gabe's. Only the one chair in front of the TV, even though Gabe said that he and Sally watch the Knicks together. His trash is all over the house, his poker table was leaning up against the wall... And he obviously feels like he is entitled to touch anything in the apartment, up to and including things that are explicitly Sally's:
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And then, when Sally tells Gabe that she and Percy are going on their trip to Montauk...
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He goes into the conversation expecting a bribe, and Sally already has one prepared. This is obviously a song and dance they've done plenty of times before.
Because abusive relationships rarely, if ever, look horrible from the outside. And they're not absolutely awful 100% of the time, either. Most abusers aren't cartoonish villains, nor are they awful to their spouses with every word they say. Abuse is often subtle, hard to notice, only clear in retrospect and when you consider a lot of individual instances of slightly off-color behavior all together.
This version of Gabe Ugliano isn't as obvious an abuser or villain as Smelly Gabe of the books, but he is more true-to-life - taking advantage of Sally, invading her privacy, the joint understanding that she won't be allowed to do something for herself and her son without his tacit approval. All of those are key hallmarks of domestic abuse, of a partner who has gained control over the relationship through emotional manipulation or physical threats and/or violence.
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thund3randrain · 2 months
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real footage of me when even more of the people who defined my childhood/early teens turn out to be shitheads
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catboymoments · 3 months
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You know how abusive parents love to tone police and how if you don’t say the right words or don’t speak soon enough it’s an offense to them
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bouquetofalliums · 2 months
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wilbur soot's statement is the furthest it can be from an apology. its vague, baseless, lacks Any sort of accountability, and feels like some shit chatgpt made up. two pages, four paragraphs and... Not a single Im Sorry. and to think i expected any better of him and i REALLY DID. his response to his other mild controversies were genuine and decent at best. this just lacks Everything. i read the first two sentences and my eyes rolled to the back of my fuckin head
disregarding that the way he downplays his own abuse astounds me. because WE KNOW EVERYTHING. we've heard from the victim and there were Witnesses. you say you were snobbish, disrespectful and selfish, but aside from the biting thing; do you ever address that time you pinned her down to claim you were stronger than her although knowing shelby has gone through past sexual assault? how you weaponized her safe word? how you locked her up in your house for days? how you never cleaned up over yourself and made her do all the work? how you gaslit her and her friends and Humiliated her in front of them ????? no amount of therapy or change you've claimed to have gone through can excuse any of your vile behaviours ESPECIALLY when it comes WITHOUT an apology. you cry about how you've changed to us but you don't care at all! because it was all about fame and money to you, right? us and our words mean so little to you, right?
you could've taken more time to polish this and to come from a place of genuinity and none of us would have complained. rather you put out some flat disingenuous slop and expected us to eat it up. No! youve lost your devoted fanbase wilbur. if you didn't want your shitty actions to come out you shouldn't have been a shitty person in the first place.
whatever . i have more to say but i dont want to waste my words on him. im so so fucking disappointed in that man and i hope to never see his face on the internet ever again . to think i spent the last 3 years and more just blindly supporting and loving his music and content without thinking anything else of it .... i feel so sick . I feel so so sick
sending all the love and support to shelby, lexie, rhana, sophie, and to anyone and all who have been deeply hurt by his actions in any way whatsoever
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queerfables · 1 month
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My pettiest and most tenacious gripe with supernatural is that when Lucifer is not taking a vessel but projecting his own image of himself, he should be played by Jared Padalecki. I know that for whatever mysterious reason they wanted Mark Pellegrino back but I just think this was a huge missed opportunity.
Lucifer considers Sam's body his rightful vessel, as much his own body as it ever was Sam's. In the cage he should have presented himself this way when he wasn't actively possessing Sam, and Sam's hallucinations should have been of his own cruel smirk. It's consistent with Lucifer's characterisation, his objectification of and entitlement to Sam. And it's impact on Sam would be so powerful.
After Lucifer, he avoids mirrors. Looks away from the impala's night-darkened windows lest he catch his reflection. His stomach turns at old photos of himself. He doesn't have many, but he's held onto some of his family. In one with Dean, his arm is slung easily around his brother's shoulder, both of them with beers in hand and matching smiles. It's a rare memory of peace, an image he's treasured for years, and when he looks at it now he feels panic crawling up his throat. He grits his teeth to hold back the snarl of "get away from him". He never looks at his hands any more, when he changes the car's oil or cleans the guns. He touches other people as little as possible. Everything's different. His body makes him an invader in his own life. He was born unclean, a soul tainted from the start, but now he looks into his eyes and sees a monster.
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cuubism · 2 months
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i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is
cw injury, referenced abusive relationships
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Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.
Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.
But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.
"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."
Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.
"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."
Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.
"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.
"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.
Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"
Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.
He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"
Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.
"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.
"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."
He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.
Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.
(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)
"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"
Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"
"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."
Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.
"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."
Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.
Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.
"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.
Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.
Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."
"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.
"As you insist," Dream says.
Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.
"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."
Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.
Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."
"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.
"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."
Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.
"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."
Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.
"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."
He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.
Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."
Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.
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ginger-canary · 18 days
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Hey D20 fans here's a heads up about what's happened with Gabe Hicks (message from Jeremy Cobb, Three Black Halflings)
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azalawa-scroggs · 3 months
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I don't think Miles Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma were passive victims.
They are victims, don't mistake me. The ideology of absolute perfection is messed up and every single member of that family is a victim of it, though Manfred is a perpetrator too. Miles especially is a victim - his father murdered, his father's murderer taking him in, either with hatred in his heart or growing to hate him to the point of wanting his life destroyed. But I don't think either Miles or Franziska realised they were victims before Turnabout Goodbyes - Justice for All, for Franziska. I think they fully believed in the von Karma creed and all it entails and gave themselves to it fully and enthusiastically.
What I'm saying is, give me a five-year old Franziska begging to be allowed in law tutoring sessions with Miles. Give me a Miles bitter, disillusioned after DL-6, confiding in his mentor that he thinks he wants to be a prosecutor and not a defence attorney. Give me a Franziska whose "whims" are dismissed by her father, fighting to prove that yes she can be a prosecutor at thirteen - fighting to prove her worth. Give me a Miles more zealous than Manfred in his condemnation of criminals, fervently repeating precepts that Manfred dictates out of habit. Give me a Franziska raised by domestics who don't know how to handle her strong character and barely looked upon by her father, growing up indulged in everything but what she needs the most. Give me a Miles lost, grieving for his father and the moral beacon he represented; give me Miles latching onto Manfred as a new model role, burying an identity now painful and shameful to him to shape himself after Manfred, picking the same suit as him, imitating his every gesture; give me Miles calling him a god or prosecution not entirely out of fear but out of admiration. Give me Manfred looking on them with his head held high and the rare smile, distant but seemingly not inaccessible until they actually try. Give me a dynamic where they don't so much try to avoid his blows or his harsh words as they desperately seek his nod of approval. Give me a world in which they're terrified of him but they fear him out of love, not out of expectation of retribution. Give me a story where they don't rue their loneliness, but take pride in it.
Give me Miles and Franziska unknowing actors of their own unhappiness.
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incognitopolls · 4 days
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"Abusive" includes forms of abuse like physical, mental, emotional, or any other form.
We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.
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xec0re · 1 month
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I'm allergic to happiness
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zal-cryptid · 2 months
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Eleanor's backstory
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