Abuse Tw - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

walter doesn’t become a worse man over the course of brba. he just gets better at lying to himself about it. he always has that streak of cruelty in him - that part of him that keeps itself afloat by putting others down. we see it in season one in how he blackmails and verbally abuses jesse, how he treats that failing student, when he explodes the rich man’s car, when he beats up walt jr’s bullies. some of these things may have been justified - but through all of them we see walt being driven, energized, by those rushes of power, of cruelty. they may be justified, but that’s not why he did it. that’s just why he tells himself he did it, once it’s done. he was always driven by that rush of power, of cruelty, since day one.

and as time goes on we see how he gets better at these little excuses. he indulges himself more and more, bit by bit. he excuses his behavior towards his wife, his son, to jesse, to hank. walt uses jesse as a kind of life-raft, to keep his excuses and his yearning for power afloat. jesse is malleable, manipulatable, controllable. as the show’s body count rises walt tells jesse it’s alright, tells jesse it was all necessary, that they did what they had to do. he berates jesse to boost his own ego, uses jesse to keep himself in control, keeps jesse in an agonizing subordinate position all through the show, so he always has someone to keep him on top. to give him the power, the ego, the reassurance, the forgiveness that he needs. he isolates jesse, guilts jesse, shames jesse, and then when jesse breaks and does what walt wants - such as killing gale - he showers jesse with assurances, reminders that it’s okay. they did what they had to. there was no other choice.

and even as jesse forgives walt, over and over, buying walt’s excuses and manipulation, jesse can’t quite forgive himself. part of him understands it’s all bullshit. we see jesse try to fight it, without realizing who he’s fighting - screaming at the narcotics anonymous meeting, asking why? why does he, who killed a man, get to move on, say it means nothing, claim it was justified? by season 4, he’s accepted that it’s bullshit. he knows he’s a bad guy. he doesn’t do what walt does - chase himself in circles excusing, explaining, what he’s done. and so the rift between them - despite walt’s best efforts - starts to grow.

by the end of the show, walt doesn’t even need an excuse: walt is the excuse. he believes he’s the exception; the one who’s so smart, so exceptional, so special that whatever it takes to get his way is simply necessary. walter and heisenberg aren’t separate people, not really - it was all walter, right from the start - but walter likes to believe that they are; because heisenberg is special. heisenberg deserves better, so he should get better, no matter whose lives are at stake. it’s the classic case of a white man born and bred to believe he’s above all consequences.

so “heisenberg” isn’t a different person, not really. walt doesn’t turn into someone different over the course of the show. he is the same man, from the start to the end - an angry, bitter old man with an extraordinary capacity for cruelty.

What the hell was Valentino doing with Angel Dust? All this time, Val had been obsessed with him, always coming up with wilder and darker plots for their films, but it had seemed... Vox had assumed it was consensual. That the two of them had a relationship. He'd seen them together often enough, days when Val was in one of his more glowing moods and felt like showing Angel off a little, when Valentino would bring Angel to dinner with Vox and Velvette, nights when they would all curl up together and watch a movie, and Vox would do his best to ignore whatever giggling happened under the blanket over on their end of the couch.

Angel Dust belonged to Valentino in every way, and thus wasn't really any of Vox's business. Unless he knew Velvette or Valentino were going to be out doing something dangerous, Vox just didn't spy on the two of them, and thus he never spied on whoever they were fucking. He could, of course, but he didn't; the three of them had a tenuous truce, ever-flexible, but that was one of the main threads running through it. Vox didn't spy on them, or on their immediate affairs, because he chose to trust them both.

But after seeing Angel like that up on the balcony, eyes desperate, body frantically trying to shut down and escape at once, and the way Valentino had smirked about it and then not even seemed to care... Vox wondered if maybe, maybe he had made a mistake.

Maybe he should have been watching Angel.

So, now, he was.

Not in real-time, not yet, but from his office. Vox locked the door and plugged himself in, frowning as he pulled up every feed, every video, every logged data-point he had about Angel Dust and Valentino. Vox had years of film to go through and he processed it quickly--but not quickly enough. Not quickly enough to avoid feeling it, feeling it creeping through him, coating his skin with that slick oily feeling Val's tongue left behind. Some of what he saw made his lip curl. Some made his cheek twitch.

All of it made his fists clench.

Vox had allowed Valentino to do so much to him in bed because he thought he was Val's outlet. Val sometimes needed to be violent and controlling, and Vox was more than strong enough to take it. He didn't like it, but he didn't need to like it; his lover liked and needed the cruelty, Vox could take it, and as far as he had known, that was that. He assumed he was an adequate outlet--all the more so because he was willing. And, from what Vox was seeing, Angel was not. Not at fucking all. Willing to be loved and petted and made into a star, willing to do his job, sure, yeah, he was willing to do those things. But willing to be physically beaten and terrorized in their downtime? Willing to be gaslit, broken, terrorized, forced into addiction to Val's venom?

Vox was furious.

This wasn't the way to retain good employees.

This wasn't the way to win masses over.

This--

Was vile.

This was Valentino fucking with the Vees' image as a whole.

And, worst of all, Angel was their friend. At least, Vox had thought he was. In some distant way, more of an acquaintance maybe, but still. Angel Dust's image was strongly associated with the Vees through Valentino. He ought to be being treated well. He ought to have nothing bad to say about the Vees. Valentino was fucking that up.

And the footage of Angel crying... angry looks Angel sometimes shot towards a camera as if, all this time, he had expected that Vox was watching... and then they would get together for lunch the next day and Angel must have thought he knew and just didn't care, didn't say anything, and--

Fucking. Val. Why couldn't he just do his damn job without constantly trying to destroy their image? Without betraying their friend? Because what, what were the Vees if they didn't have loyalty? If they couldn't trust each other? And every time Valentino broke Angel, left him crying on the goddamn tiles--

Vox was shaking when he put all of the files back in storage, fury making his nerves quite literally sparkle under the skin, thankfully covered up by the suit. Although there was no one there to see, he straightened his jacket and then his tie anyway when he stood up and walked out to his main office, to his computer.

A few clicks was all it took to invade Val's privacy further, and Angel's, by looking into the paystubs for Val's studio.

Angle was paid less than the key grip.

Vox let out a slow, controlled breath, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. I will fix this, he thought coldly and calmly, and he took out his phone. After sending several texts, he put the phone away, stood, and headed out.

"Cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the day," he told his assistant--who was paid at least three times what Angel Dust was paid, not including the fact that he actually got overtime, and who had never once had to sell himself on the fucking streets--without looking over at him, voice smooth, calm, composed. Vox walked on, forcing himself to go slowly as he headed up to Val's floor--

To Angel Dust's dressing room.

Although he wanted to burst in, he raised a hand and knocked politely on the door instead.

"Angel Dust," Vox called, his voice perhaps surprisingly serious for once; he usually used his public voice with Angel, cheerful and energetic. "I'd like to come in, please."

Starter for @doublejango

To say that he felt embarassed was the biggest understatement of the century. That emotion barely skimmed the surface of what he was feeling in that moment. Shame, agony, distress, anger. It was a dangerous cocktail, and it was no wonder that Angel Dust spent most of his time in the studio high as a kite if he could help it. There was no other way he'd be able to tolerate the overwhelming emotions that hit him like a truck.

Valentino of course knew exactly what he was doing to Angel. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time that the pimp had laid a hand on him. Though as far as Angel knew, this was the first time that Vox had been witness to it. He wasn't stupid. He knew there were cameras all over that damn tower, and surely the flat-faced prick had to have seen what went down. Right?

But Vox's expression before he had poofed off to fuck knows where through the electrical currents said that maybe he hadn't known. Either that, or he was just disgusted that Valentino kept letting filth like him into the Vee Tower, especially after Angel had so clearly left. But knowing there were multiple individuals that were judging him, feeding off his misery, it only made matters worse.

Mascara tracks painted the white fur that framed his face, any makeup that the team had worked so hard on to hide that black eye blotchy and revealing now. He slammed the balcony door shut, grabbing the bottle of Velvette's stupid love potion that was on the table and smashing it against the wall, shoving his vanity mirror down too until it shattered into hundreds of fragments, his broken face now reflecting at him times ten.

Collapsing onto the ground, Angel brought his knees up to his chest, curling all four arms tightly around himself, trying to make himself into as small a ball as humanly possible. Face buried into his knees, entire body trembling as he tried to calm himself down. Now that Val wasn't occupied by Vox, he would probably be trying to come into Angel's room any minute, and if he saw the destruction of both his room and himself, he knew there would only be further consequences.

we're not saying people with npd, aspd, ect cant hurt you or abuse you

we're saying disorder =/= abusive

people with npd, bpd, aspd, infact, ANY cluster b disorder CAN abuse you. HOWEVER, having those disorders dosent instantly make you an abuser

dont be abelist.

people with ANY disorder can abuse you. that dosent mean they WILL abuse you. the fact that they have that disorder dosent mean theyre an abuser. it dosent make them abusive. they can be abusive, that dosent mean suddenly every narcissist is evil, suddenly all aspd people are threatening you, all bpd people are rude and abusive. stop throwing around the word abuse like its nothing. stop specifically linking it to personality disorders. thats blatantly abelist.

ihope all cluster bs have a lovely lovely day please ignore the hate and abelism yall are so gorgeous treat yourself to your comfort food

wow, love that my school finally enforced that I get counselling after my parents have forbidden it for so many years because they know they'll be in deep shit if I call them out. So my mum sits there today violently grabbing at my face and screaming what she'll do if I "go off telling lies". She's just scared for herself.

Just saying...

Please do not interact unless you have experienced any form of trauma or abuse and/or experience mental illness, especially with maladaptive daydreaming.

I do not want people re-blogging or commenting on posts (mainly) about MaDD saying stuff like "omg, this is so me because I like to pretend ___ every once in a while". Or "oh, I'm just so imaginative like this".

Like, shut up. Shut up. It's not fun living like this. It hurts. Especially after going on for aeons thinking the daydreams were helping, but I get to a point of realising that it's not, and it's not okay. I'm not okay.

It's okay, I'll be here for you to use until you get bored ☺️