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shorthaltsjester · 10 months

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sometimes people will say “going dark” and then what they’re actually talking about is just people no longer presenting a carefully constructed version of their emotions and experiences.

like. emotional turmoil is not the same as darkness. laudna in this Fictional Universe that has tangibly different stakes wrt to death and killing than our own, is at best like . morally neutral for what she just did like. man has been secretly trying to kill you, and then just tried to do so again, killing him back is a fair choice. and even if i was someone who is excited by delilah’s inability to escape from the narrative, this shit isn’t about delilah. laudna made a choice. if delilah is back or whatever it’s a choice that laudna made because something in that grants her more control than her existing conditions did. this isn’t some Delilah Takes Over, it’s Laudna Expressly Makes The Choice To Call Forth Something within Herself to remedy the lack of control that’s been thrust upon her. if y’all want to Continue to limit Laudna’s agency (as the cr fandom is so, so want to do when a female character makes a choice that isn’t Good according to some weird system of virtue ethics) go ahead.

likewise with orym. little guy is not “going dark” because he has finally made direct action about his emotional turmoil in dealing with a situation which has similarly left him without control and has also placed him in a position where his stalwart conviction towards protecting and honouring those he loves and has lost alike is constantly met with other people he cares for going well.. what if they had a point/we are killing other peoples loved ones/etc. which like . yeah that might be frustrating and in fact might lead him to go, actually, i can’t afford to try and maintain some abject morality where I carry a locket that will literally only provide guilt. orym is completely committed to his beliefs, the locket and what it represents has never been a limit to what he will do, only a reminder of the consequences of what he might cause in those actions. but they Are at war and orym has a billion things on his plate. he can put down the locket. especially when bor’dor is the explicit manifestation of that locket’s symbolism. the subtext rapidly became the text and orym doesn’t need a reminder. it’s there in the fact that team issylra is walking away with two friends, not three.

these are character who have at every turn denied their own emotions in various forms while still being acutely aware of what they deny, whether that awareness was/is fully realized or not. many of laudna’s early convos with ashton show us that there is some awareness to the lighthearted spooky goth girl and how that persona fades when she thinks too much about what has led her and maintained that reality. likewise the entirety of orym’s story thus far is defined by his grief in a very literal sense, it Has extended from that grief to also the commitment he had to the purpose of figuring out the assassination attempt on keyleth but as we have seen, that purpose has fallen apart. paired with the quasi-reopening of his grief that was getting to see will again only to have to turn away, i don’t think there’s a lack of awareness in orym of how much he hurts. but between his actions and 4SD, that hurt tends to get buried under guilt or Responsibility.

and now, finally, both of them have admitted to that Not in the safety of small introspection or one-on-one conversations but with actions that they cannot shy away from or deny. laudna killed bor’dor and orym encouraged her to. and it Is a complex situation but truly I don’t really think it’s a “going dark” one. because they’re not giving into some overhanging Darkness of Morality™, they’re admitting that they are hurt and have long been hurting.

or, y’know, tldr for those who continue to deny laudna and orym agency or fully villainise them for whatever weird reasons . you could listen to laudna and ashton’s conversation that pretty much lays it out explicitly. laudna claims she’s weak for having chosen to kill bor’dor. ashton denies that and affirms instead that, no, she’s hurt.

#critical role #cr spoilers #laudna #orym #team issylra #maybe it’s because a lot of these people r also the people who have no literacy wrt religious and philosophical complexity #that Screams bad experience that hasn’t been reckoned with but. the Big part of healing is that. a lot of the time #especially with Trauma. the mess is gonna come before the pretty little bow does #like noah fence but . this is The Most interesting laudna and orym have been to me this far and it’s not because they’re Darker #it’s because they’re being more true to themselves #maybe this is nitpicky I Don’t Care #me watching c1 as vex admits that she still feels like a burden and Heavily considers being treeified for sondor. ‘is this vex Going Dark?’#as an imogen Lover . let’s be real and admit the only Genuine going dark risk is her at this point in the campaign #because like. i truly don’t see anyone else making the Choice to do absolutely fucked up selfish things #and imogen considers doing that shit like . once every two eps At Least (affectionate but eyes wide about it)#anyway. reunion will be very interesting with an orym and laudna who are shedding pieces of what maintains their like Group Role #bells hells #critical role spoilers #cr3 #cr campaign 3 #bell’s hells #my posts

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gxlden-angels · 8 months

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To everyone with Rapture anxiety, I just woke up from a dream where I tripped the lead angel playing the trumpet, ending the whole thing so it's no longer an issue. You can rest easy now

#It was comically simple I literally tripped the front dude as he was calling others #and bam no more rapture #then I woke up cause my cat was screaming for me #he has anxiety :(#and sometimes wakes me up to make sure I'm still good #he's such a sweetheart I love him he's my son his name is Malachite he's a big orange boy #he's also so so autistic #like father like son #but yea I'm going back to sleep good night/morning #ex christian #religious trauma

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demontouched · 3 months

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i really like that fantasy high isn't six* people entering brennan's world. it's seven people working to build and establish a world, and brennan was just the start. he had an idea, he shared it with friends, and said "join me, let's make this something beautiful together."

(*for the people who saw this before the typo fix, i'm sorry 😭 i didn't even realize. i'm very bad at typing.)

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anotherfallenchild · 7 months

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I think Aziraphale has his heart in the right place: he wants to fix heaven and make it kinder/fairer/ bring the knowledge he’s had from loving humanity and Crowley into an environment that’s been separate and removed from humanity and empathy for millennia.

I think he wants to bring in the shades of grey.

And for him he thinks he can do that with Crowley, because he’s integral to his own understanding of those shades and taught aziraphale across thousands of years that morality isn’t concrete and fixed: people are complicated and shouldn’t be damned harshly when the reality is their circumstances are against them being good.

He thinks he can undo the trauma heaven has caused Crowley / he can make it a place worthy of him.

But you can’t erase trauma, it’s part of your history once you’ve experienced it.

He doesn’t understand that Crowley wouldn’t change his own history, because it makes him who he is: this complicated being capable of kindness and love despite the things that have happened to him and despite the very nature of what he’s meant to be.

Crowley is the living proof of shades of grey and love despite trauma and him becoming an Angel again would be giving up the life and personality he’s carved out for himself in his pocket of the world.

Aziraphale thinks he’s saying ‘I can fix heaven to be worthy of you and give you back what was taken’

But all Crowley hears is ‘I need to fix you to be worthy enough for me to love’

#aziracrow #meta #they make me want to scream #ineffable husbands #gomens #good omens #aziraphale #Crowley #you can fit so much religious trauma into a little guy in a vintage waistcoat

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fromedennn · 1 year

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don’t look back

lot and his wife / orpheus and eurydice / inazagi and inazami / haku and chihiro / yama and sivitri

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dreamersbcll · 4 months

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Chinese Satellite

it’s just a matter of time before i’m hearing things

2/4

——————————————————————————-

Sam comes home two years later.

She’s twenty years old, on the cusp of her twenty-first. There wasn’t really a good reason for why she came home. Regret for all the relationships she left behind. Maybe it was the curiosity, wondering what had changed and what stayed the same in the sleepy town she grew up in.

Mostly, it was the guilt.

One thing Sam Carpenter excelled at was dwelling in the past. Stagnant. Never moving forward.

It probably explains why she couldn’t enter the house that raised her.

A couple of minutes past midnight, Sam rolled into Woodsboro, and within half past the hour, she sat outside her old home.

The car she was driving wasn’t hers— much like the house she was outside wasn’t either. It was funny. She didn’t have a plan for coming back. She just got into Stacy’s car and drove.

She could be anywhere else. Doing anything else. But yet she was here. Living in the past again.

Getting out of the car, she wrapped her sweater around her, shivering. It was a hot May night, but this was her second time trying to get clean. Detox didn’t care for the weather. She would freeze anyway.

Sam ambled across the street, her hands digging into her skin. She walked slowly, carefully, ensuring no one could see her. If someone saw her, she wouldn’t have a good explanation for why she was here.

And if Tara saw her, well, she would have to break her little sister’s heart a second time.

As she approached the house, she noticed two lights were on. The kitchen light, and Tara’s room. The kitchen light wasn’t a shock- their mother needed it for her drunken late-night escapades. Tara’s, however, was a shock. Sam can’t recall her little sister staying up so late.

She probably missed it. A lot fell through the cracks in the last seven years.

If she squinted, she could see a cross above Tara’s bed. Funny. She doesn’t recall that.

Sam stood right outside the kitchen window, peering in. Not much has changed. The same wooden table with two functioning chairs still stood, with the same old paintings of fruit on the walls. There were still photos of the sisters- even cracked and crooked- posted all over the walls. It was comforting to know that even though she was gone, her face was still on the walls.

Her free hand fell to the cross around her neck, twirling the chain around her fingers. She knows leaning on her history with religion wasn't the right move. Nor the smart one. All it ever did was maim her and leave her barely breathing.

Sometimes, she likes to think that maybe if she prayed harder, somebody would listen.

It never worked. But maybe standing outside the house she grew up in and staring through the windows she knew well would lead to something.

Who was she to question God’s ways?

Her eyes flitted up to a picture on the wall. It was the sisters, somewhere around Sam’s eleventh birthday. The two sisters were squished together, both in their nicest church dresses. Easter Sunday.

Sam closed her eyes, taking in the photograph. She remembers that day well. In fact, she could probably relive it. The sickly sweet scent of Easter lilies, the scratchy dresses, the smell of coffee after service. She remembers Tara crying because she kneeled on a hairpin during prayer and her mami scolding both girls for being too loud.

Opening her eyes, Sam looked at the photo again, noticing the cross tightly held by Tara’s fist. It clicks. Sam does know that cross. It was the one their mami gifted both of them, one to keep and talk to God with.

She shrugged. It couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like anyone else would be listening anyway.

Breathing out, Sam stared at the photo and spoke.

“We haven’t spoken in a while, have we?”

Already, she wasn’t very sure if she was speaking to Tara or God.

“I’ve got to tell you what a state I’m in…” she trailed off, collecting her thoughts.

Laughing a bit, Sam ran a hand through her hair. This was ridiculous. Standing outside her old home in the dark, staring into a kitchen that was never really hers. Pathetic almost. But some sort of gravitational pull kept her rooted in the spot, stuck in place.

“Fuck. I guess I don’t know. I have to tell you that I’ve started looking for a warning sign. A warning sign that maybe I shouldn’t come home. A sign that I shouldn’t look for more excuses, yeah?”

Sam bit down on her lip. Hard. Lying was a sin.

Good thing she was racking them up.

“That’s a lie, I guess. The truth is, I miss you. That’s my warning sign. Yeah. Yeah, the truth is that I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. I can’t-” she hiccups, a sob caught in her throat.

Sam clears her throat, wiping her nose hastily with her sleeve. “And I’m tired. God, I’m tired. I shouldn’t have let you go. I’m sorry.”

Looking down at the cross around her neck, she shuddered. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

She shook her head, hand grasping the chain tight off to snap it. “But I did. And now I’m twenty years old. She’s fifteen. And you probably aren’t real, so what’s the point of all this?”

Nobody answered. Nobody heard her. It was silent. Like it always was around Sam.

“I don’t know. I just wish someone would hear me. Point me the right way,” she shrugged.

Groaning, Sam let go of the chain. “But no one is there. There are just echoes. That’s it.”

Sam looks around again, waiting for someone to come out. Anyone. Someone to hear her, talk to her. Point her in the right direction. Tell her what she was doing was wrong, and there was a fitting way to fix it.

Yet, God was silent. So was her childhood home.

“Why don’t you help me? Why weren’t you there for me? Were you ever there?” she half-shouted, snapping her mouth shut.

Fuck. She shouldn’t have yelled. Someone could hear her. Someone could find her.

But nobody answers.

She turns around, almost robotically, and marches back to her car. Sam is sure if she turned around, she would be met with silence. But if she marched forward to the car, maybe she could find someone to hear her. Maybe.

And so Sam crawls into the empty arms of someone she loves, the only love she hadn’t screwed up.

Empty arms with the name heroin. The only light that bathed Sam’s face from then on was the lighter she used to spark up.

If God wasn’t going to listen, neither was she.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #AU: Chinese Satellite #catholic guilt sam carpenter #religious trauma x scream #catholic latinos UNITE!

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alkibiadessuperfan · 1 month

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im very normal about vierna do‘urden.

#i just started episode 13 of the listening thingy this morning #and my reaction was an 11 minutes audio note of screaming #i listened to 1-3 parts and was just constantly stopping to scream #AND THE QUOTE: YOURE JUST LIKE MOTHER MALICE #AND HER HAVING A WHOLE CRISIS IN GENERAL #THE DOOM OF BECOMING LIKE YOUR MOTHER PLUS RELIGIOUS TRAUMA #drizzt do'urden #vierna do'urden #the legend of drizzt

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alphawolfstabs · 6 months

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Wanting to breathe, waiting to drown

[2210 words!!]

Religious trauma scream au with stuilly. Billy has a very Christian mother, his dads a dick, he’s trying to learn and grow but he can’t. Stu is an atheist satanist, meaning he does not believe in a god, other than himself.

[in satanism, you worship thine self. You also view baphomet as a more ‘positive and prideful’ energy, rather than a being.] [Stu is a hunter though, has a trophy room but it's not for satanism- lots of people think it is though]

[Reblogs appreciated but not forced <3]

Billy had always been perceived as the epitome of perfection throughout his entire life. To the outside world, his parents appeared to have a flawless, happy family, and the expectation was that their son would naturally follow suit.

However, beneath this facade of an ideal life, Billy struggled with the weight of his family's expectations. He was far from perfect. He conformed to his mother's strict ideas of how he should dress, while his father, even when physically present, often seemed emotionally absent, never truly engaged with his son. In many ways, it was as if he were absent from Billy's life.

Everything Billy did was, in some way, shaped by his mother's desires and expectations. He accompanied her to church faithfully and performed every task with the aim of pleasing her. His life was a constant effort to meet her standards, and everything he did was solely for her approval.

As Billy grew older, he couldn't help but overhear more and more of the conversations between his parents. When he was 14 years old, a gay couple moved into a nearby house, and they were unabashedly proud of their identity. To his parents, this was a cause for disdain. In the privacy of their home, and even to others, they ridiculed the new neighbors for their sexual orientation.

The negative attitudes expressed by his parents left a profound impact on Billy. He absorbed their beliefs that being gay was unacceptable, something to be scorned, and that the only acceptable path was to be heterosexual. These beliefs, which were instilled in him by his mother and reinforced by his family environment, shaped his perspective on sexuality and identity as he grew older.

At the outset of Junior high, Billy struck up a friendship with a fellow student named Stuart, a tall and slender boy who possessed both intelligence and a great sense of humor. Although Stu had a knack for occasionally being slightly irritating, Billy quickly learned to overlook these quirks because of the genuine connection they shared.

Billy affectionately dubbed him "Stu" because, in his enthusiasm, he often struggled with pronouncing "Stuart" consistently. "Stu" became the preferred moniker between them, and it stuck. The two of them became inseparable at school, whether it was sharing desks, playing outside, or simply being seen together around the campus.

With Stu, Billy found an eccentric friend who embraced his unique qualities and idiosyncrasies. Stu had no issue with Billy's pre-meal rituals or the frequent references to the Bible that peppered their conversations. He allowed Billy to be himself without judgment, and this level of acceptance was something that made their friendship truly special. For Billy, having a friend who not only accepted but celebrated his individuality was a comforting and refreshing experience.

As they matured, Stu occasionally made remarks that caused Billy to question the sustainability of their friendship. Such a moment arose during their freshman year of high school when Stuart kept talking about a fellow student, a jock named Steve Orth, who happened to be in Stuart's gym class.

Stu's comments varied in tone and content, from crude observations to downright perplexing statements. One day, he remarked, "-I mean- It's just insane. We're freshmen! He shouldn't have a package that size."

Billy almost choked on his water, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What?" he blurted out.

Stu looked back at him with a mischievous grin. "What?"

"You looked down.. there..? That's like.. Not good? Dude, you sinned!" Billy exclaimed, his shock palpable.

Stu laughed and shook his head, seemingly unfazed. "Pretty sure it's only sinful if I touch."

Billy's brain seemed to short-circuit at this response. "What. Would you? Stu- That's gay. Don't be gay," he blurted out, a mixture of confusion and concern in his voice.

Stu continued to laugh, dismissing the topic without any further comment, leaving Billy in a state of bewilderment as he grappled with his friend's statements.

For a few years, Stu didn't bring up any topics of that nature. However, it all changed during their Junior year when a new member joined their group, Randy Meeks. Randy was an odd character, even more irritating than Stu, but Billy tolerated him for the sake of his friendship with Stu.

On one occasion, they gathered around the fountain, already engaged in a lively conversation. "All I'm saying is, I'm pretty sure he's gay," Stuart declared, taking a seat beside Billy.

"What?" Billy looked up from his book, perplexed by the discussion.

"Stu thinks Michael Myers is gay, and I'm just trying to prove to him that he's not," Randy chimed in, eager to join the debate.

Billy shook his head. "I don't think so."

Stuart threw his hands up in exasperation. "Come on!" he exclaimed, standing on the edge of the fountain. "Listen, he was in there since he was what—3? Dude had to lose his virginity at some point, especially to be a killer like that!"

Billy raised an eyebrow, pondering the matter. "Aren't there girl nurses?"

"Not that we saw," Randy added.

"Thank you! I rest my case, Michael was gay. Thank you," Stu concluded, settling back down.

Billy shook his head, and his nose wrinkled slightly. Stu noticed his hesitation and prodded, "What?"

"Huh?" Billy responded, momentarily lost in thought.

"Your nose—you do this thing when you want to say something but won't," Stu observed.

Billy sighed. "I know Michael was already sinful with murder, but he can't be gay. It ruins the movie for me if he is."

"Okay, Christian boy," Randy began with a roll of his eyes, "since you know so much—"

Stu quickly interrupted by giving Randy a light slap on the back of the head. "Enough," he stated firmly, before turning his attention back to Billy. "Believe what you want, just don't judge me for what I think."

Billy nodded, appreciating how Stu handled Randy's provocations and respecting his right to hold different opinions, even if it made him question his own views.

Senior year proved to be an especially challenging time for Billy. Gym class with Stu became a source of inner turmoil. Whenever they were in the locker room, Billy would change quickly and leave as soon as possible. However, there was something about seeing Stu in a state of post-exercise sweat, casually wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, revealing his well-defined abdomen, that stirred an unusual sensation in Billy. It wasn't disgust; it was something he couldn't quite understand.

As the year progressed, Stu became more open about his interests, particularly in the context of discussing someone he found appealing. To Billy's dismay, most of the time, it wasn't about women.

Billy struggled to come to terms with these feelings. He no longer saw them as sinful but instead grappled with questions like, "Does he ever say stuff like that about me?" The thought of his best male friend talking about him in that manner made him feel queasy. It seemed too 'gay' for comfort, and he was unsure how to navigate this new emotional terrain.

Billy refrained from discussing these thoughts with his parents, fearing their reaction, and he never prayed for these feelings to disappear because deep down, he didn't think they could be 'fixed.' He felt trapped, unable to reconcile his emotions with the beliefs he had grown up with.

Then, during one of his visits to Stu's house, Billy stumbled upon something that would further disrupt his emotional balance.

Billy's curiosity was piqued as he picked up a book with a rather unexpected title, "The Satanic Bible." He couldn't believe what he was seeing; it seemed impossible.

Stu, sprawled out on the bed on his stomach, glanced at the book and shrugged. "You have your Bible, I have mine," he replied nonchalantly.

Billy's eyes widened in disbelief. "You worship Satan, and you think that's okay?"

Stu burst into laughter and shook his head. "Jesus, man, no." He sat up and motioned for Billy to join him. "Sit down, and I'll explain."

Billy hesitantly took a seat, placing the book in Stu's lap. "Satanism isn't about worshipping Satan. It's about worshipping yourself in a way. You view Satan or the devil or whatever as an energy, something prideful, something positive."

Confusion furrowed Billy's brows, and he struggled to grasp this new perspective.

Stu smiled patiently. "I don't believe in Satan, or God, or an afterlife. I exist for myself."

"But… you're a Satanist?" Billy asked, still unable to reconcile these ideas.

Stu nodded calmly. "Satan's bad in the context of traditional religion, but it's not the same thing in Satanism. It's not about evil; it's about embracing yourself, your desires, and your individuality."

Billy blinked, trying to process this new perspective. "But… didn't he, like, kill a bunch of people?"

Stu nodded. "In traditional religious context, yes. But it was only ten people. If you think about it, God, on the other hand, was responsible for killing over 20,000 people. Who's actually bad in that context?"

Billy huffed, still struggling to fully grasp the concept. "I don't get it," he admitted, his confusion evident.

Stu smiled softly and inched closer. Their hands gently intertwined, fingers entangled, and as Billy stared at their linked hands, he felt a peculiar mix of emotions. He knew he should move away, that this closeness wasn't "normal" in his belief system, but he didn't want to pull away.

"In your religion, you're told to follow one person's guidance, to do and say things because that's what this one figure wants you to do," Stu began, speaking gently. "In my 'religion,' I do what I want to do, for me. And, just so you know, I don't sacrifice animals. I hunt and keep trophies, but most hunters do that. In my belief system, we're actually told to respect all living things, all of them."

Billy nodded slowly, finding this aspect of Stu's beliefs easier to understand.

Stu continued, "In your faith, if someone hurts you, what do you do?"

"Forgive them," Billy replied.

Stu challenged him, "Why? What if they do something terrible to you? Think about what happened in 'Black Christmas,' the guy's sister. What if this person does that to you?"

Billy had to pause and think about it. After a moment, he shrugged. "My mother says we always forgive."

Stu shared a different perspective, "You want to know what they say about that in my belief system?"

Billy nodded with interest.

"We don't forgive for that. Plus, if interest is not reciprocated, you back off instantly."

Billy pondered this, and a realization dawned upon him. "That's… actually better. Should I say that?"

Stu looked at him with a sweet smile. "You can say that. I'm not going to judge." The warmth in Stu's eyes made Billy's heart race, and he felt a mixture of emotions he hadn't experienced before.

"Do your parents know?" Billy asked, his gaze earnest as he looked at Stu.

Stu let out a soft snort. "I'm lucky if they even know my age, Billy."

Billy's expression fell with understanding. "Oh, yeah. That's right. Sorry."

"It's okay," Stu reassured him, gently running his fingers through Billy's hair. "Do you want to know about the sexuality aspect as well?"

Billy nodded slightly, his curiosity piqued, though he wasn't entirely sure if he'd like the answer.

Stu continued, "In Satanism, you embrace all aspects of yourself, and if you desire someone, that's okay. No matter what that makes you. It means being gay is okay."

The way Stu conveyed this message felt like he was trying to convince Billy, as if he was seeing deep into him, understanding the inner turmoil. Billy couldn't help but consider the possibility. Maybe this was precisely what he needed, someone who understood him.

Billy exhaled softly and asked hesitantly, "So… are you gay?"

Stu smiled warmly. "I'm not actually. I like men, but I also like women. Whatever that's called, that's me."

Billy simply nodded, absorbing this information.

Stu pulled Billy into something akin to a hug, and Billy allowed himself to melt into the embrace. As he rested against Stu, he couldn't help but think of his friend as someone who was truly free—free from the constraints of trying to please someone else, free to be himself.

He yearned for that kind of freedom but was held back by the ever-present specter of his mother's expectations. What would she say if he dared to voice these thoughts aloud? Even now, he questioned whether all of this was sinful.

A feeling of tension and constriction had wrapped around Billy like a coil of barbed wire, as if someone were perpetually tightening it. It might have been the thought of his mother, or perhaps it was the weight of his faith, but he couldn't be certain. All he knew was that he longed to break free from this suffocating grip.

Sitting in Stu's embrace, he felt that constricting wire begin to loosen. It wasn't choking him now; instead, he felt like someone had truly seen him, spoken to him with genuine understanding. In Stu's acceptance, he found a reprieve from the turmoil that had plagued him for so long, and for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

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