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helldustedstories · 2 months

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Stolas is very used to having to put on some sort of mask with pretty much everyone.

With his father, he learned to become the dutiful son who was obedient and never showed his emotions beyond what was "respectable" for the situation. He knew he meant little to Paimon beyond the fact that he was to carry on the Ars Goetia name (his birthday certainly wasn't the only time his father forgot his name), and he played that part to perfection. Stolas married Stella, despite having absolutely zero interest in any sort of relationship with her, he didn't complain about …. basically anything.

Because if he ever did, he would be belittled and put down. He was excited about getting his grimoire and learning what his job was going to be, only for that to be immediately followed up with "Also, you're going to marry this person you don't know and the picture I'm showing you is of her actively hurting her pets." And when Stolas understandably reacted to that, he was told "that's an ugly noise" and to "cease this bitch crying."

It certainly wasn't the first time his father told him something like that, and it wouldn't be the last.

He's so drawn to Blitzo at the circus because the performer was clearly excited about what he was doing, and he didn't let his failure to make a balloon horse right away get him down. Instead, he kept trying and when he made a horse without legs, he made a joke about it instead. And when Stolas laughed, he responded to him and appreciated the fact he'd gotten a response, which was also a first for Stolas.

He was already starry-eyed about Blitzo before the latter came to the house because of that tiny interaction, and then suddenly, Blitzo was there, in his house. He had liked that Stolas had laughed at his joke; maybe he could share some things of his own, share any of himself without being scolded for it! Sure, Blitzo wasn't that interested in his books, but he showed Stolas something he'd never had before: how to play games. Stolas was able to have fun and be himself without fear for the first time.

He truly considered Blitzo to be his friend, and if he'd had any way of keeping in touch, he would have.

But that was the last time he was really allowed to behave in any way childishly. Because after that point, he had to become the dutiful son again, focus on his studies. No more carefree days of playing with other children.

And when he came of age, he married Stella. He certainly wasn't interested in their marriage, but he tried very hard to be, hoping that if he put in the effort, it would change how he felt.

But once they had Octavia (when he was only nineteen), it quickly became clear that his marriage to Stella was going to continue to be one of convenience and nothing more. Stolas still tried to be a good husband, so that he could also be a better father than his had been, but even then, he couldn't really let his himself just be.

Stella continued to put him down, insulting him in pretty much any way she could think of, and he couldn't show how much it got to him. Because if he did, then that would only give her something else to throw back at him.

He tried to shield Via from the worst of it, but every year that went by, it got harder and harder to do.

Other than his daughter, he was incredibly lonely, sequestered for much of his life, and controlled in some aspect for so much of it.

It's part of the reason why, when his first friend returned, and showed interest in him, Stolas was so intrigued. He'd never felt wanted before that point, never had anyone express any sort of desire for him, and for it to be this person he'd been himself with, even if it had been twenty five years previous, is so foreign to him.

And so when Blitz is flirting and forward, even then, because he has no idea how to act in this situation because he's never been in this sort of situation before, he tries to match Blitz's energy because that's what he wants, right? And Stolas is used to putting other people's wants before his own.

But as he spends more time with Blitz, especially when they're not just sleeping together, he starts to show more of himself, starts to actually let someone see who he really is. And that's how he has the courage to stand up to Stella, to finally initiate a divorce. Because if someone like Blitz, this bold, courageous, funny, amazing person can see him for who he is and doesn't immediately push him away or hate him, then maybe he can do something for himself for once. Maybe he can make his own life better.

Because now he knows there is a better. He had been trying to stick it out and stay in the marriage, to try to provide Octavia some form of stability, but that hasn't been working, and is, in fact, actively harming his daughter. Which is even more important than his own well-being. He's going to do better so that he can also be better for Octavia, if it's not too late. The status quo hasn't been working, and Stolas is finally figuring out a way to take off his masks, even the ones he wears for himself.

#ᯓ★ stolas : headcanon #verbal abuse tw #spousal abuse tw #parental neglect tw #arranged marriage cw #long post cw

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aptenodykes · 8 months

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Yay! More art!

#star wars #ren prime #spousal abuse tw #it’s a tank top joke but I’m playing it safe #my art #abuse tw

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beauthief · 1 year

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((Wanted to write a little drabble about Haru's first awakening. When she unlocked her costume & axe but not her actual Persona. This takes place when Haru finds Morgana in the Okumura Foods Corporate Building and is written to be a monologue in her head spoken to her by Milady, not yet fully awaken.))

There is a cat, he's hurt and surrounded by what looks like robots. Everything has changed. You don't recognize anything around you, everything you once knew by heart now resembles that of the science fiction films your father so loves. The world around you is cold, metallic and sterile. It feels devote of life threatening to eat you up to take your life too. Except for the cat. The cat who at any moment could have his life snuffed out before you. Threatening t leave you alone amongst this hellish void. Will you allow this? Will you allow yourself to be abandoned? 'Someone has to do something.' YOU are someone, YOU can do something. Despite what they tell you, how your father treats you, how your fiance dictates your lack of worth, you are not worthless. You are worth more then they ever imagined. Now prove it.

Do you even notice when the axe has formed in your hands? When something in you changes and you embrace that rage which has laid dormant in your heart for so many years. Do you feel the mask loosening, threatening to tear off at any moment? Or are you too blinded by the fury that comes when you swing your axe? When you hear the strain of metal against metal and feel the tremble that climbs up your arm when you make contact. The noise echos in this lifeless place a clang that deafens you to the world. Black ooze that you assume is oil leaks from the wound in the robot's head and it spills across the floor when you remove your axe from it's head. The machine clatters to the ground before evaporating into black smoke. You swing again hitting the second robot, sparks fly from its face and you wonder if the scream you just heard was your own or it's. Again you tear the axe from metal and again it evaporates into thin air. Without anything to unleash your fury upon you turn your attention to the third robot. It is backing away, it is begging to be let go and to be forgiven.

Is this what it feels like? When he grabs you and you beg for your freedom. When you beg for him to listen, to forgive you of his perceived slights. Is this how it feels to deny others mercy? Does it feel like raising an axe above your head and silencing pleas for pity. Does a thrill run up his spine when he exacts his control over you? Is it the same for him as you feel now. Does he feel like he is slamming an axe repeatedly against his offender. Silencing their fearful cries while a tingle of joy scampers around your mind. Do you finally understand how powerful he must feel? Can you accept that? Will you accept the power he has over you? Or will you take your power back?

The robotic mechanism has stopped begging now, stopped moving, it has stopped breathing, if it ever could. But you do not stop. This exhilaration that has overtaken you spurs you forward. Ripping your axe from the machine only to bury it in again. Your movements repeat like a robot at a conveyor belt. Black splashes onto your face, covers your hands, your arms all the way to your elbows and pools at your feet. Even as the mechanism fades from existence you continue your onslaught digging your axe into the ground over and over again. The machine is dead, you can stop at any point, you've done your job and helped the cat... But ask yourself. Did you really do this for him?

#❦ ℋ𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃 ℬ𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝒫𝑜𝓅𝓅𝓎 ❦ Drabbles #spousal abuse tw #animal injury tw #emotional abuse tw #violence tw #((I HC that Haru had 2 awakenings a partial one done to help Morgana/others #Then her full awakening done to help herself but she could not have had her full awakening had she been acting for others #Her full awakening could only come from helping/choosing herself))

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unlockthestars · 11 months

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Send a 🍁, ask a question // Accepting

@flightofaqrow asked: (Val;entina) 🍁 + How's life treated ya? (RWBY verse)

"Oh, better than some, worse than others," comes the cheeky response. But there's a pain hidden behind those grey eyes, hurts he didn't often talk about.

An abusive father….a mother who couldn't get away, and a child caught in the crossfire, who tried to defend their mother and instead became the object of their father's wrath. Broken bones from a young age, only healing properly because of Aura and the kindness of a doctor visiting Mantle. Running away as soon as their mother took one too many hits…..because living on the street was better than living with him, especially when they knew what he thought of people "like them."

Learning how to fight on the streets, determined to get into combat school, to make something better for themself. Transitioning for the first time fresh out of combat school, before starting at Atlas Academy. Proving their worth as a sniper, and graduating with top marks.

Being chosen for a special project working with Dr. Weller…..finally finding people they could call family, a place where they could belong. It hadn't been an easy road here…., but those early years had made them who they are today, even if they didn't like to admit it.

#flightofaqrow #★ val/entina romanyszyn || answered ★ sometimes it's simply fun to watch #★ val/entina romanyszyn || headcanon ★ i trust no one; it's why i'm still alive #★ val/entina romanyszyn ★ || verse . make a difference where you can #child abuse tw #spousal abuse tw #domestic violence tw #homophobia tw #transphobia tw #queerphobia tw #[most of this is just canon and it hurts me]#[I love Val so much and they have been through a lot]

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aparticularbandit · 1 year

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A Sea Psalm for a Penitent Soul: Stanza One: Paved with Good Intentions

Chapter One: Blood

Fic Summary: When Agatha Harkness is barely ten years old, she witnesses the trial - and execution - of a woman who'd looked after her since she was a baby. As accusations from outsiders fly and as Agatha struggles with controlling her own dark magic, the world she knows and depends on is ripped out from under her.

Chapter Rating: M for adult themes. Fic Rating: M for adult themes. TW: Blood; menstruation; combustion; mentions of child loss and spousal abuse

General Note and Content Warning DD;DNE - It only gets worse from here.

AO3

previous chapter

“Alice Baker, are you a witch?”

She shouldn’t be here.

Agatha stands, half-crouched, just on the outskirts of the coven circle, hidden in the thicket of trees. She’s small for her age – only ten years old, but that’s double digits, so she should be allowed, even if she’s not really an adult yet – so she can hide easily enough in the bushes, just behind a tree. It isn’t fair; she’s older than Agnes by months, but she gets to be at coven meetings. All because of that stupid blood maneuver! She should have tried it; it would’ve been simply enough to catch some from one of the chickens Prudence cooks for supper; it’s just avoiding Prudence that would be the problem—

Her teeth grit and grind together. No more thinking about Agnes, even if she can make out her best friend standing just next to a taller figure who has to be her mother – it’s hard to make out faces from this far away, and she can only make out what her own mama is saying because she, Agnes, Nicholas, and Nathaniel have played this game hundreds of times.

Fake witches. Fake trials.

The other children always think it’s a joke, and it is! Mostly. Everyone in Salem knows that witches are evil, so whoever’s on trial has to die. But it’s always a game, so they fake dead and then get back up in seconds. No one really stays dead. And it’s always a short little thing they can do between all of their other chores and....

Well, it sounds a bit like public confession, and while the adults don’t really like that they’re witches, they don’t mind too much, other than giving them a very, very strong look.

But by this point, Agatha knows the beginning by heart. She’s her mama’s daughter, so she usually plays the coven head, usually accuses Agnes. Sometimes they switch. Sometimes they let Nathanial be the head for the fun of it, even though everyone knows that boys can’t be the head of the coven, no matter whose kid they are. But it’s not like Agatha will ever be head. Charity, her oldest sister, will, and if something happens to her, it’ll be Prudence. They’ve probably heard this hundreds of times from her mama, but Agatha’s only heard bits and pieces.

And she wants to hear the rest of it!

Agatha tucks back the dark strands of hair that have pulled away from her messy braid, and she pushes through the long dying grasses, around the bushes, and as close to the circle as she can get. The sudden throwing back of all the coven members’ hoods covers the sounds she’s making; as cautious as she is, she can’t be completely silent. But they’re all distracted anyway, focusing on the slender whip of a girl standing at the stake, thick, interlocking wisps of blue light writhing around her wrists and holding her in place.

Alice Baker has been part of the Salem coven since before Agatha was even born. Hers isn’t the first face that Agatha remembers seeing, but it’s close to it. She’d been the age Agatha is now then, with bright rosy cheeks and equally bright brown eyes that always twinkled with mischief. She would tweak Agatha’s nose, and Agatha would bat at her fingers – bite them, sometimes, with sharp baby teeth – to stop her from doing it again. Her mama would always tell her to quit biting; Alice would just give her a wink and say she didn’t mind, that Agatha was just acting like the animals did when she tweaked their noses. Then her mama would say that Agatha wasn’t an animal, and that would be that.

Except when Alice would take young Agatha next to the bubbling brook to make sure she was bathed correctly, to make sure she didn’t drown, and then she would tickle her chubby cheeks and Agatha would bite fingertips, and Alice would laugh and laugh with those sharp pointed teeth of hers.

Alice was kind to Agatha, once. Before she got married to Thomas Thorne.

Agatha thinks of him and shudders.

The waterfall thunders in the distance, loud enough to cover their voices from afar, loud enough to cover their voices from near, too, if Agatha doesn’t listen very carefully. She misses Alice’s vocal admittance, but she sees the witch’s head thrust back, chin tilted up, and she can imagine Alice’s bright brown eyes peering inquisitively down at her mama.

Of course, Agatha can see her mama clearest of all, straight across from Alice, with her two older sisters – Charity and Prudence – at her left and right hand. Charity’s flat, dull brown hair looks drenched in the moonlight, but that’s as it always is; no matter how much she cleans it, it always ends up looking greasy and dirty. Her hawkish nose peers out into the darkness, though Charity doesn’t look up at Alice, looks down at fingers clasped demurely in front of her, ruddy cheeks reddening from the torchlight on either side of her. Prudence, on the other hand, gleams like a dying star. Her thick black brows throw shadows over the softer curves of her face, which though beautiful in the light of day, now only make her look like a skull with a thick crop of black hair falling in waves about its sides. Even from this far away, Prudence’s green eyes glint in the flicker of the flames.

And her mama between them, staring up at Alice, ramrod straight, the light blue glimmer of her crown thin atop her greying hair. Already, her mama is old, so much older than most of the town matrons. Even the Puritans – the real ones, not the fake ones they pretend to be to hide among them – look up to her mama as a fountain of wealth, even more so now that her stomach swells with what will hopefully be another little brother or sister for Agatha to play with.

Maybe this one will live.

She’d had another sister, once. Younger than Charity and Prudence, but older than Nathaniel. Not that she’d ever met her. She’d died when Agatha was a baby.

By all accounts, Agatha should be dead, too, born in the frigid cold the way she was, right when everyone usually got so sick. Babies born in the winter don’t live. They die. They—

“You have betrayed your coven,” her mother continues, voice soft over the thundering water, piercing eyes focused entirely on Alice. “You practice the darkest of magic, and you murder—”

“I have murdered no one,” Alice interrupts, voice crystal clear, loud where her mama’s is so soft. “I only defended myself against a vicious warlock—”

“—by draining him of his magic until he was nothing more than a mummified—”

“He would have done the same to me, and you would have done nothing to him.”

Agatha bites on her thumbnail, worries it, rips it a little too close to the quick, and winces, cringes, aches. She stares at her thumb, catches the smallest bubbling of blood. As Alice and her mama quip back and forth, she sticks her thumb between her lips, sucks the blood from it, and sneaks as carefully as she can around the outer edge of the circle, staying behind the trees. She’s seen her mom and sisters enough; she wants to see how Alice looks. The bitter taste of copper fills her mouth, which is weird because normally ripping her thumbnail doesn’t cause her to bleed this much. She pulls her thumb out, stares at it. Just a drip welling up. But the taste was so loud.

Every now and again, Agatha glances back to Alice. The blonde witch has set her jaw, angled her head so that she leers down at her mama, and the shadows of the torchlight under the softer glow of the moonlight set Alice’s shape in sharp relief. She’s gotten thinner since she lost her baby. A lot thinner. Agatha tugs her lip between her teeth and keeps creeping.

“What will you do to me, then?” Alice asks, her voice suddenly deceptively soft. “For defending myself, what will you do?”

“There are ways to defend yourself without using dark magic,” Agatha’s sister, Prudence, suddenly snaps out. “You could have—” But she stops all at once, and Agatha pops her head up to see her mama placing a hand on Prudence’s wrist, giving a little shake of her head.

Agatha’s mama looks up at Alice, but Agatha has gone too far now to see her expression when she says, “You have endangered us, Alice. Do you not have an answer for that?”

“I have endangered no one, and my defending myself, I have saved—”

“You broke the rules—” Prudence starts to shout out.

“They bent to my power!” Alice snaps out, glaring around at them. In that moment, she wrenches forward, sharp teeth glistening in the light, held back only by the wisps of blue magic wrapped around her wrists. “You have no idea what it’s like, shackled to a warlock who cares nothing for you, who beats you for stepping an inch out of his plans, who chokes you near to death when your child—” Her voice cuts off, chokes off, and turning to her now, Agatha can see that Alice’s head has lowered. Light glistens off of her cheeks. “I did what I had to do.”

Agatha’s mama shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs, voice so soft that Agatha wouldn’t have been able to hear it if she’d been on the other side of the circle, “you did not.” Her gaze never leaves Alice as she says, “You should have asked your sisters for help. You should have told us—”

“And what would you have done?” Alice sobs, chest heaving with breath. “Nothing, nothing.” She glances up again, meets Agatha’s mama’s eyes levelly. “I did. what I had. to do.”

Her mama shakes her head again, slow. “Dark magic is never what you have to do, Alice. I’m sorry that we were not able to teach you that.”

At her mama’s words, the other members of the coven begin to chant in Latin. Agatha can just glimpse Agnes off to one side, staring up at her own mother, who gives her a little nod. Together, they raise their hands, palms out, towards Alice, just as the other coven members do, and all at once, beams of blue-tinged light rip out of their hands and pierce Alice’s skin.

The instant before they hit her, Alice glances up. She catches Agatha’s eyes, and her own widen in horror. Then the magic hits. Her entire body glows from within. She screams. She screams. She—

Agatha wants to turn away. She shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be seeing this, she shouldn’t be hearing this desperately low animalistic growling. But no matter how much it makes her stomach turn, she can’t look away. She’s fascinated, focused so entirely, so completely on the way light runs thick through Alice’s veins, turning her into a golden human lantern. Of course, Alice sounds like she’s in pain, but she’s….

She’s beautiful.

This is a whole new side of magic Agatha has never seen. It scares her. It rejuvenates her.

For the briefest of moments, Alice’s moans stop. She glances up, yells out, “Do not forget me,” and then lowers her head and stares directly at Agatha. Purple magic circles the pits of her pupils. She meets Agatha’s eyes. Winks.

Combusts.

Agatha can’t stop herself – she gasps. Immediately, she covers her mouth with her hands, but it’s too late. Her mama glances over her shoulder, catches her. She doesn’t look the way she always does; her face is lined like old, worn out leather, and her face is an ashen, ashy white. For once, her mama doesn’t chide her for being somewhere she shouldn’t be, but she doesn’t hold out an arm to draw her in either.

She just looks.

Quiet.

Somehow, that disconnected, apathetic, uncaring look from her mama – as though she has nothing to say to her at all – is the most terrifying part of the entire experience.

Something lower than Agatha’s stomach clenches, and she doubles over as blood begins to trickle down her legs.

“My daughter,” her mama murmurs in that same, soft-spoken voice, “you are one of us now.” Now, she holds out a hand, staring at her with eyes dark with shadows. “Come, and join your sisters.”

Agatha grits her teeth, swallows, and stumbles forward, dripping and in pain.

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ofhumanvoice-a · 2 years

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Did you write that Moon/River thing yet? -chinhands-

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on | not accepting

River was...the more amiable of Moon's suitors. She knew from day one of her reign that she would have to marry and produce an heir. It was just something queens did, regardless of their sexuality. So she picked the guy she could genuinely like if not love, who actually listened to her when she spoke, who was a supportive presence.

Only problem is as time went on, the less likeable he was. Not for any fault of his own, mind you, but because who he was clashed so brutally with Moon. He’s loud and brash and carnal and Moon...Moon is a high-strung perfectionist who needs a consort who will complement her. River is not that. He tries, oh how he tries, but he’s never been able to live up to his wife’s expectations. So he puts up with her belittling him at every turn as her tolerance, year after year, wears thinner and thinner. By the timeline of the show she’s basically lost all patience with him. She just wants him to sit still and shut up and that just isn’t fair. Nor is it a healthy dynamic. One could even argue Moon’s borderline abusive. Honestly, it’s amazing River has put up with her for this long and while he’s not my favorite character, I think he deserves better.

#matriarchology #ch: m. butterfly #relationships ;; moon ( river )#headcanons ;; moon #spousal abuse tw #just in case

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brooklynislandgirl · 9 months

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what triggers does your muse have from their childhood?

Picking at Scars || -

The first time Raylan brings her roses, the scene plays like a silent horror film. He's come down from Lexington a little early, intent on surprising her thanks to the advice given to him by literally nearly everyone in his confidences. Not that Raylan isn't a romantic, he is in some deep down and possibly even antiquated ways, but while Beth has made it a priority to reclaim the garden and the house has a botanical park's worth of plants, he's never really seen her fill space with cut flowers. Her back is to him as she's doing the dishes. One of her random playlists provide a softer sort of company while she stands at the sink. Irish stew cooks away in the crock-pot, and soda bread cools on the counter. The only two things she can cook which is in itself an oddity but they do pair well and are delicious so there's that. Somehow, though, she smells the flowers wrapped up in tissue-paper and cellophane despite the melange of clean linen, supper, coffee and the salt-water and lotus candles burning throughout the lower floors. That alone might be enough to impress except...she visibly stiffens, and the mug in her hand slips out of slack fingers to clatter against the bottom of the sink. It doesn't break. "T-take dem out," she says. She doesn't call him by his name. Doesn't sweetly turn and smile, doesn't scamper into his embrace like she might otherwise do. Just the stuttered three word command. When he comes back, she's not moved except to smooth the wayward wisps of hair away from her brow. When she turns, her face is drawn. It is pale. There are faint lines at her brow and her mouth, and maybe, just maybe, there's a touch more dampness in her eyes than he's used to seeing. "Y-" he doesn't even get to finish the whole statement, not even a whole word. Her tone is brittle as the words themselves, almost unnatural as she forces them out. "I'm sorry. I should have been...less...I shouldn't have snapped. But I don't... I... don't do roses." ~*~ Of the various triggers Beth has, roses are probably the worst as they incorporate sight and smell memories. Whenever the Admiral struck his wife, he would bring her a dozen roses. Beth has associated them for as long as she remembers with violent outbursts, the sounds of weeping, growled threats, and once her mother managed to escape, with the Admiral turning his unquenchable rage onto her. Other things she doesn't particularly enjoy is power-flickering {electricity}, loud noises, shouting, etc.

#Mahalo!K <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms}#Moonlight and Gasoline|Raylan and Beth #You'll Never Leave Harlan|Justified au #spousal abuse tw #child abuse tw

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vixletserenity · 1 year

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youtube

He had it comin' He had it comin' He only had himself to blame If you'd have been there If you'd have seen it

I betcha you would have done the same

'Cause if they used us And they abused us How could you tell us that we were wrong

#☆I just think it suits me ~aesthetic #abuse tw #implied child abuse tw #murder tw #spousal abuse tw #definitely more when she's angry at her dad and all the shit he's done #has the justified anger vibes that Celeste rarely expresses #if I'm missing any other tags needed because of the nature of the song let me know

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faramirsonofgondor · 4 months

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“Gabe isn’t abusive in the show” ARE WE WATCHING THE SAME SHOW???

Gabe is literally introduced by yelling at someone who, when Percy apologizes for Gabe’s behavior, says “I’m walking out, you’re walking in. I should be apologizing to you.” And then Percy reluctantly and slowly walks inside. And Gabe immediately starts in on him (calling him “Genius” in a mocking tone) as Percy repeatedly expresses that he just wants to talk to his mom ( and Gabe’s subsequent “Is that all you have to say to me?”) The fact that he answered Sally’s phone and acted like he had every right to do so?? The way he shows begrudging respect when thinks Percy was violent towards another kid at school?? The “you would think that because you’re a child, you don’t understand things…” The way he gets annoyed that Percy wants to know where his mother is. The “what are we doing Percy? every time! wow…wow!” in such a condescending tone??? Percy’s immediate alarm when Sally calls Gabe’s name. Gabe immediately yelling at Sally, not knowing anything about Percy’s life (he didn’t even know his school’s name despite literally just talking to them), the way he makes Sally negotiate to use the car (“Why am I okay with this?” “Make sure they put the hot peppers on my sandwich please!”) the way he acts like his tone of voice shouldn’t matter to Sally because he said “please” the aggressive behavior even after he concedes to letting them use the car (getting in Percy’s face, pointing his finger at him, etc.), like???

Just because he isn’t depicted as smacking the shit out of them doesn’t mean he isn’t abusive. He is constantly yelling, even when it’s not necessary, and is overall condescending and rude towards both Percy and Sally. He has a positive reaction towards the idea of Percy being violent, which means that he probably has no problems getting violent himself, even if it isn’t show on screen. The fact that he is constantly trying to redirect Percy and Sally’s decision to make himself the center of it (he is trying to goad Percy into an argument when he gets kicked out of school and overall keeps trying to redirect the conversation back to himself, he acts like he is allowed to breach Sally and Percy’s privacy but then makes Sally get his permission to drive somewhere, and even then she has to give him something in return). Like he is very clearly controlling and emotionally/financially abusive (he acts like Sally’s things are his despite not having a job and likely blowing through their money). It also seems like he tries to diminish Percy’s self esteem, possibly to keep him and Sally under his thumb (it’s a common tactic used by abusers to make the victims feel like the need to depend on the abuser). Overall, just because he might not be physically abusing them, doesn’t mean he isn’t abusing them and doesn’t mean his actions aren’t harmful. Furthermore, just because he isn’t violent on screen doesn’t mean he isn’t violent.

#pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo #percy jackson #gabe ugliano #sally jackson #tw child abuse #abuse mention #tw abuse #emotional abuse #mental abuse #financial abuse #spousal abuse #abuse is still abuse no matter what it looks like #emotional abuse can be just as hurtful as physical abuse

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