#child neglect mention

[little-soldiers]

q!trump (the egg) is a really interesting and memorable character despite the very short amount of time we see him and i think i know exactly why.

his tragedy is the deepest, the most realistic and the most relatable out of the qsmp. his death was completely preventable, and only a few people ended up caring. it’s raw, and hits home hard to a lot of people because,

it’s mourning the loss of your childhood to neglect and loneliness. it’s the cruel hand of random chance and wishing you were born anyone— anywhere else. it’s seeing the other kids playing from your window and wishing you could join them.

it’s knowing someone could’ve saved you but no one did.

[lady-charinette]

Since I just finished Kotaro Lives Alone (which destroyed me body and soul), I was thinking about Anya from Spy x Family.

What if Anya also developed survival tactics and unhealthy coping mechanisms while she was passed around from orphanage and family?

What if, even if she doesn't eat tissues like Kotaro, she got addicted to eating peanuts because she found them on the street whenever a family would drop them on their way home from a festival?

What if Anya insists on calling Loid 'papa' and not 'father' is because the 'father' in her life was always a very cold, distant figure that commanded obedience and never cared for her and Anya didn't want to associate Loid with that?

What if, some time down the road, it's revealed that on a subconscious level, Anya loves all things to do with spies and detectives, not only because Loid is a spy, but because detectives solve cases and mysteries, and Anya wants someone to solve the mystery of why no family wanted her longterm before? The mystery of why she got abandoned?

Could Anya's "Starlight" phase and her moments of creativity and independence, the moments where she tries to help Loid fulfill his mission, be because she wants to feel important? Like she plays an active role in bringing success? Because she had so little agency in her own life until now? Was "Let Starlight Anya handle this!" be a indirect coping mechanism of emotionally/physically neglected children to depend and rely on themselves in order not to feel so helpless in their situations?

Will Yor recognize some of Anya's behaviors that don't really add up as suspicious? Because she knew what a well looked after child looked like (even if both Yor and Yuri lost their parents, Yor went above and beyond to ensure Yuri had everything he needed and grew up well even if he grew up into...well what he is now XD)?

Or will neither Loid nor Yor recognize any signs of child neglect in Anya because when they'd been children themselves, they'd been neglected as well, growing up without a family and see themselves in Anya?

[jadewyton]

Just realised I might not get time to finish this because of Christmas… so have her now in case it takes a while! She’s a shared lore dragon :)

Teen girl ridgeback who’s being raised by my unethical scientists! Her family (owned by a friend) is plagued by a horrible illness, but she was born with an unusual immunity to it. My scientist tundras were given custody of her so they could figure out why; and while they have no malicious intent towards her, Tamra is a TERRIBLE mother… Like girl, YOU might be fine with skipping meals, but children need more than gas station coffee to make it through the day! Give her some pasta or something!!

[is-this-just-fantasy]

tw: mentions of ableism, child neglect, and death (theres a good ending)

Op is prolife and a terf so i took this post

[cursedpinterest]

The pin.

....

[puppyluver256]

[Image Description: A human interpretation of the Hollow Knight, the titular character of the game of the same name. They have very pale scarred skin, long white hair in a ponytail, black and orange eyes, and a missing left arm. They are wearing a grey tank top, green lounge pants, and a silver hair clip shaped like the horns their original appearance has. They appear to be looking into a bathroom mirror that is out of frame, presumably mounted over a bathroom sink that they are standing in front of. They have a finger up to their mouth and are examining the strangely empty space inside, as their tongue has been mostly removed. The background is the pale blue bathroom wall, an open wooden door, and a view into the hallway with a beige wall and green fluffy carpet. End ID.]

-----

Hello and welcome to How To Make The Asshole Responsible For Mostly Everything In Canon Somehow Even Worse In Your AU 101! (: Step right up, it's gonna be a long-un.

So yeah, I still don't have all the details hammered out quite yet, but I do have significant points roughly accounted for. Even after they've been out from under his metaphorical wing for like four or five years, PK has of course still left considerable marks on all his kids. In this human AU, PK (who I'm tentatively calling Paul King until I find something that's not so perfectly fitting even if it's a bit bland for a character like him) is a fairly influential religious leader whose faith involved some principles akin to the quiverful movement, along with strict control over his progeny and a belief that children--or at least his children--only serve as accessories to their parents and something to be seen and not heard. This led to a lot of neglect for the kids under King's roof, thankfully only three full-timers this time instead of the likely hundreds of thousands just due to the differences of how mammal reproduction works compared to insects (or wyrm + tree I guess lol), and that neglect led to a Lot of Crap.

In fact, only two of the things that happened to any of the three kids were the result of direct action on King's part, and sadly both of those things happened to Hollow. One was the event that was the catalyst for getting the kids out (again I'm still trying to nail this down, but it does end in the house blowing up), and the other (: was the one time (: Hollow had the courage (: to talk back (: and King decided (: to make sure that never happened again (: and the man has medical training (: he was a doctor at one point (: so the glossectomy was professionally done by him personally (': ('': (''':

Anyway, yeah, that little detail is part of how I'm carrying over the "no voice to cry suffering" part of the Vessels, though in AU Hollow's case it's less "no voice to cry suffering" and more "no tongue to give that voice clarity and also they basically just stop trying shortly after". The other two don't vocalize for different reasons, Ghost is just the bog-standard neurodivergent flavor of nonverbal for the most part (they could probably speak if they tried under the right circumstances, they just don't), and BV's silence is due to neurological damage as they had a seizure that affected a nerve controlling speech, and that combined with them falling down the stairs shortly after certainly didn't do them any favors. ...though the black sclera for all three, that's another thing entirely, let's just say that their old house was similarly close to the source of a certain substance like the White Palace is in the game... As to why Hornet's not physically affected by any of this? Her mom's alive in this AU, obvs she lived with her. And even though she visited as per custody agreement, and also her wanting to be with her half-siblings to give them some actual human contact that wasn't just the bare minimum to keep them alive, if anything had happened to Hornet while in that house Herrah woulda gotten more than a little aggro (: Thankfully the siblings are in a much better living situation now!

.......also since voidy stuff is in this AU and they've got some and they can do this:

[Image Description: The same image as above, cropped to Hollow's face. Four black tendrils have been added coming out of their mouth, with black handwriting reading "void tendrils" and an arrow pointing to the addition.]

Yup. At least eating's not as hard for them as it seems to be for most actual willing glossectomy patients??? ^^;

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are preferred as they let more people see my artwork! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

The Hollow Knight and other Hollow Knight concepts © Team Cherry Human AU design and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios

[drhu0806]

23 - “No, you won't understand, ever.”

Fandom: Touchstarved (fanfiction) Characters: Ais, Alchemist origin Rating: T Warnings: suicidal thoughts, implied suicide mention, child neglect mention, strong language

Weiss peers intently at the swirling, crimson waters of the Seaspring, watching the steam curl and rise. She can almost hear the whispers again, wafting up to her. In spite of the heat, she rubs her arms. What would it be like, she wondered, to simply let herself fall? To let the waters take her, to give herself over to the tides.

“I’ve told you before, not a great spot for swimming.”

Like always, Ais cautions her against the spring in his own way. Reluctantly she takes a step back but her gaze stays trained on the waters. She can feel Ais’s own eyes upon her.

“You really dead set on doing this, sparrow?”

She can never detect even a hint of disapproval in his voice during the numerous times this has come up, but she can’t help but always feel like he’s pushing her in some direction each time.

“No, I keep telling you, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she huffs. Out of habit she hides her hands, tucking them into her armpits with crossed arms as she walks away from the spring.

“And yet, you keep coming back.”

“If you don’t want me here, then just say so.”

He smirks in the face of her leering. “And miss out on all the fun that usually comes nipping at your heels? Nah.”

“So why do you keep telling me off from using the spring?”

“I’m not telling you off; no sweat off my back whether you choose to go for it or not. I just keep wondering why you would want to in the first place.”

Weiss releases a long sigh, annoyed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

“No, you won’t understand, ever.” Aggravated, she marches toward him, holding up her gloved hands. Though they’re covered up, as she always painstakingly makes sure they are she can almost see the discolored fractures running across ashy black skin. She can always see them, the leviathan weights that drag and hang from her side.

“You don’t get what it’s like to never be able to get close to someone, not just emotionally but physically, all because you’re so terrified that one touch is going to ruin it all. Because that’s all it takes: just a bit of skin, and it’s all over. Every day of my fucking life I’ve had to double check, triple check, to make sure everything is covered up like it should, and even when I do, I still have to keep my distance because my life is a joke and I never know what’s gonna happen. Do you know what that does to someone?

“You don’t think I’ve thought about other options? You don’t think I don’t know that the world would be so much better off without me in it? My own fucking parents preferred dying than having to stomach being around me anymore, and that was after they locked me away from the outside for so long. I’ve been there, and let me tell you, it doesn’t stick for me. If I had my way I’d be alone in a nice little cottage out in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere, barely any people around, but the Fogfall sure as hell isn’t gonna make that easy.

“And then I come here, and there are people like Leander that I can actually touch, or just people who treat me like an actual human being. And it’s so nice! But the way things go for me, I just know someone’s gonna slip, and it doesn’t matter if it’s me, or him, or whoever the other person is, it’s always going to be my fault, because I know better!” She throws up her hands, angrily pacing back and forth to the beat of her tirade. “So maybe, Ais, you should just let me go! This might be the only way of getting rid of these stupid fucking hands, and it’s not like anyone’s gonna miss me!”

Her chest rises and falls as she catches her breath. Weiss expects pity, resignation, even anger. She wants him to be angry, because it would be so much easier.

Pensiveness certainly isn’t within her expectations. Ais’s gaze is steady as he looks at her, even gentle, mixed with something else she can’t quite place.

“Mm. So that’s it, huh.”

“What is it?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I just figured out what it is that you want.” He gestures toward her. “Take off your gloves for me for a second.”

She immediately recoils, hiding away her hands again. Weiss looks at him like he’s grown a second head as she protests, “What? No! Are you crazy?”

Ais flashes a grin. “’Course I am. But I think this is pretty sane.” He takes a step toward her, and she responds by taking one step back. “...Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s me. It can’t be you, Ais. If I lose you of all people, because of me, I don’t think I can—” She cuts herself off, fearing she’s said too much, and tries to dismiss it all with a furious shake of her head.

His expression is indecipherable. “Just trust me. If only this once.”

It’s pointless to run, and Weiss despises keeping such a heavy atmosphere over them. Seeing no other choice, she painstakingly, ever so reluctantly peels off her gloves, revealing the blackened skin beneath.

“Happy now?”

To her shock, he offers out a hand. “Almost.”

“Are you insane?” she asks for the second time.

“Sanest thing I’ve done in a long time, actually.” He winks. “It’ll be fine. I think you overestimate how much you can actually hurt me, little sparrow.”

Such a simple gesture, and it sends her heart into overdrive, the thundering in her ears drowning out almost all other noise. Years and years of restraint and self control are what keep her from giving in to the overwhelming urge to practically throw her hand into his. To squeeze so tightly and never let go.

Her soul has been parched for so long, but like the waters that fill the Seaspring, something about this place, about him, steadily quenches and irrigates its dry, cracked landscape. The desperate self control she’s built up as a wall eases ever so slightly, and, trembling, she places a few fingers into his palm.

She tenses out of instinct but doesn’t immediately jerk away. When she spares a glance at Ais, her heart almost skips a beat at the lack of a reaction. The demon is as composed as ever, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Wow. Your teeth literally have more bite than this, you know.” And when his hand closes over hers and his thumb softly caresses her skin, she feels like she just might cry.

“For the record, I don’t think your curse works on Monsters. Probably. Not me, anyway.” His grip on her hand is firm, an indication that he doesn’t intend to let go soon. “I’ll respect your choice, whatever you end up doing. But maybe you should think about ways to get what you really want, instead of thinking you have to work around it.”

Weiss closes her eyes, trying her best to listen in spite of her thumping heartbeat. What is it that she really wants? She knows the answer, but years of misfortune have laid waste to whatever slivers of hope that might remain.

But there’s almost always water to be found in the desert.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

A Feather on the Wind - Mickey Garcia

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Mickey's always been scorned for his interests but Goose wants to change that.

Words: 1607

“And this will be your room,” Goose said. “Our last foster kid just moved to another home, so you’ll have this all to yourself, at least until we get another kid to look after.”

Mickey stood perfectly in the centre of the room. He had a few bags around him on the floor. A dirty, torn backpack and a small duffel bag. His hair had reached shoulder length and looked in need of a good wash, and after hearing his story, they knew why.

He’d been a child of neglect. From what they could tell, this had been going on for years. His school teachers had noticed his clothes being unwashed and crinkled, his hair knotted and messy. Neighbours had also realised certain abnormalities about the Garcia home. Mickey was apparently alone a lot, playing by himself for long into the night, other people’s kids telling their parents of his late bedtimes and how his parents let him eat what he wanted. To them that had been cool, but the adults knew better, knew that everything they saw screamed that he wasn’t being cared for properly. 

“If you don’t like the bed sheets we can change them, there’s space for your clothes and anything else you want to put up.” Goose bent down to reach under the bed. “And here is where you can put anything special.”

“Special?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, pictures of family, letters or birthday cards, anything you want to be just for you.” He then added. “Not that me, Carole or Bradley would mess with your things, but this is just to keep these things private, everyone needs somewhere for their own things.”

He stood up again with a wheeze. He wasn’t getting any younger and his vision clouded as he went dizzy. His shoulders were aching today, they were more and more over the past year. It had been years since his accident at Top Gun and, with him being in his thirties now, everything the doctors had told him was starting to come into effect.

“Do you want me to leave you to it?”

Mickey nodded his head slowly, but there was something in the way his eyes lingered that made him think he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Well, want me to take some of your clothes to wash?” He tried.

He nodded and began to open his bags to give him the clothes. Some things were in the way, a few books about the game Dungeons and Dragons, power rangers action figures, Bradley would love to talk to him about those, and, as he looked closer, a few Star Trek figures. He didn’t mention it to him, but kept it back for later, it was always good to have something in common with the kids they looked after.

“I’ll get these washed and hung out for you, okay?” He said. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, then just call for one of us, okay?”

“Okay.”

He gave him a smile and left the room. As he waited outside the door, he heard Mickey talking softly to himself in Spanish. And after peaking through the crack in the doorway, he saw him placing his things around the room. That really was sweet.

~~~

"Kids!" Carole shouted up the stairs. "Dinner!"

Bradley's heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, followed by the more careful ones from Mickey. He'd stayed in his room since he'd got here, she supposed he'd been arranging his things but, despite him having more stuff with him than some of the kids they cared for, it didn't take four hours to put away books, clothes and toys, at least she didn't think so. 

Appearing by her side like an apparition, Bradley gave her a grin, showing off his brand new braces, and took his serving of the chicken pie. She wasn't sure what to cook. How much did Mickey eat at home, if anything? Would he like her cooking? She'd gone with a classic just to be safe. 

"Thanks, mom!" Bradley cried, carrying his plate to his usual spot.

Goose kissed the side of her head, "Thank you, honey."

Mickey stood in the doorway. His footsteps were quiet, pattering against the floor as he took his plate with both hands. 

"Thank you," he mumbled. 

"No problem."

Everyone sat in their usual places, leaving the chair nearest the door free for Mickey. He placed his food on the table, the chair screeched on the wooden floor. 

They got down to talking. Bradley blabbed about his day at school. He'd started middle school a few months ago and was loving it. Mostly it was his science classes, especially physics, anything to get closer to flying despite how her chest clenched at the thought of him being in the air like his dad had. 

Nick was by her side, alive, but the images of him in that hospital bed, not knowing if he would wake up, still haunted her. And there were effects he'd feel for the rest of his life. Worse vision as he got older, headaches, chronic pain in his neck and shoulders. It was all too much sometimes.

Bradley was still talking about his day. She tried to hum at the appropriate points but couldn’t shift her attention from Mickey. He'd barely touched his food. Pushing the pieces of broccoli around, he gulped and furrowed his brow. The way he shifted in chair told her something was wrong.

As Bradley stopped talking, she lay a hand on his and smiled, then turned to Mickey, "You don't have to eat it if you're not hungry, honey."

He looked up, his eyes glassy with tears. She shot him a gentle smile. Nick caught on and nodded at him.

"We can always heat it up if you get hungry later, okay?"

"Okay," 

He screeched his chair across the floor, scurrying out of the room without another word. She guessed that living in a neglectful home would make big family mealtimes a bit hard to adjust to. 

They'll just have to work a bit harder. 

~~~

Mickey's stomach grumbled. He was used to the feeling of hunger and had been trying to ignore it for over an hour now to no avail. 

That meal time was far different than he’d ever experienced. They'd actually eaten together for a start. Most of the time he had to make his own food, and on the odd occasion he didn't, they didn't sit at the table discussing each other's days.

Yet, he couldn't deny that he was starting to get those all familiar hunger pains again. His body told him he could withstand it. He'd faced worse. But his brain reminded him of that tasty looking dinner that would be in the oven, ready to be reheated.

Another grumble. Maybe he did need food. 

The house was so quiet, but not in an empty way like his old home used to be. This house was so full, even at its most still. Laughter echoed on the walls. Happy memories were pictured in frames. Drawings and memos were stuck on the fridge with colourful magnets, souvenirs from holidays past. 

As he passed the living room, he heard a familiar jingle come from the television. He stopped in the archway and a smile grew on his face that he couldn’t stop. He knew what this was. It was Star Trek: The Next Generation, his favourite show ever. Well, apart from the original sixties show.

He must have made a noise because Nick, or Goose as he’d been told he could call him, he didn’t know why, turned around. His son Bradley was curled up next to him, his wife Carole knitting on an armchair next to the sofa. It was a level of domesticity he’d never really experienced before. 

“Hey!” he said. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

Carole stood up and placed her knitting on the arm of the chair, “I’ll put the oven on, sweetie.”

She patted his shoulder. Her smile made something feel right, right and wrong at the same time. Because if these people could be so welcoming after only knowing him for a day, why couldn’t his parents care this much after knowing him for his whole life?

“Sit down, Mickey-” Goose patted the chair next to him as Bradley shuffled up.

He tried to hide his glee at the fact that Star Trek was on the television. There was always a slight hesitation within him, that if he smiled too much or talked too much about something, it would be too much, wrong in some way he didn’t fully understand.

“You watched this before?” He asked.

Mickey couldn’t stop himself from nodding vigorously.

“It’s Star Trek,” he whispered.

“Ah, a man of taste, I see,” 

His smile returned. All his interests had been scorned or ignored at home. As much as he was excited to have someone to talk to, he still felt like it was only inevitable that they’d get tired of him and not want to hear anymore about his interests.

“Do you just like this one or do you like any others?” Bradley asked.

“I like all of them, I think the original one’s my favourite, I really like Spock, he’s kind of different from humans and vulcans.” He averted his eyes to his hands. “But I also really like Data, he’s different too, but I watch Deep Space Nine sometimes too!”

They carried on talking as the episode carried on. They weren’t getting tired of him, they actually seemed happy that he knew what they were on about. It was refreshing. He hoped he didn’t get moved from here, it seemed perfect.

1. Mickey's long hair comes from Danny Ramirez' hair 2. I am an Autistic Fanboy truther. I tried to put this in the form of him loving Spock and Data who are 2 characters commonly headcanoned as autistic 3. BTW, I am a trekkie, I like the 60s show and the reboot films but have consumed all the other shows through Tumblr. My friend is a Next Gen and Voyager Fan. Also I do have an idea for a Top Gun Star Trek AU so look out for that maybe, if I get chance to write that

[fairymint]

(How WOULD Arven deal with people thirsting after his parents?)

He's not amused, but he's not literally stupid, either. Arven's general reaction is about the same as half of any situation- WhatEVER. Especially postgame, he's definitely matured to the point of at least trying to sympathize with them. He might be super annoyed in the early-game, especially since his reputation is literally just being his parents' son- hurts when they're not around and not relevant.

...and he's a little vain himself and would comment or agree lightly that he definitely got his looks from Somewhere. That's probably more in the context of patting himself on the back tho- not them so much.

of course, anything further than looks and it's like, Good Fucking Luck. His parents will probably ruin your life like they did his! and if they don't, congratulations, guess you got lucky, it's weirdchamp.

[incorrectjane-andthedragon]

Magnus: Getting away with child neglect is really easy when you're surrounded by idiots.

[the-crow-cryptids-domain]

I'm so fucking lucky my dad taught me how to cook and to cook well, or else I'd be making giant pots of instant ramen and bland unseasoned chicken like my mom used to when I was a kid

Then again I started out learning to cook by myself BECAUSE my mom would only feed us the blandest shit imaginable or... actually not feed us at all, if I remember right and later my dad helped me hone that skill...

...Huh

[bleakbluejay]

you motherfuckers have no concept of what "land back" or "decolonize" even mean. you're too busy demonizing entire groups of people, terrified, shitting yourselves, that they'll do even half of the horrors to you that you've done to them for decades or centuries. this shit comes off as hella racist for real. you hate arabs so much. you hate first nations people so much. you hate black people so much. even if you sympathize with them, you can't fucking bear the idea of them gaining freedom, independence, autonomy, safety, because you're so, so scared they'll hurt you back and cause chaos in the streets. these same people who just want to rebuild. who just want to go home. who just want to see their families again. who just want food. who just want medical care. who just want dry, warm shelter. you're so focused on the ideas of colonization, of "us vs. them", of one people displacing the other for a state to exist, that you cannot comprehend coexistence, and your only idea of peace is if an entire group of people were just gone and dead.

grow the fuck up. for the love of GOD, grow the fuck up.

[nerdpoe]

Danny's really, really good at making peanut butter fudge.

Not even Jack can make it better than him.

So when Kord Industries very own Ted Kord himself comes by to look over the weird stuff the Fenton's make, his parents go just shy of begging him to make that fudge.

Mr. Kord very enthusiastically chows away at it, and while Jack and Maddie go downstairs to get more inventions, asks Danny how he perfected the recipe.

Danny answers honestly.

"Well, the only edible things in the house for a lot of the time are peanut butter and maple syrup. I learned to work with what I had."

He's pretty proud of it, but doesn't really get why Jazz turned red or why Mr. Kord got pale.

for those who do not know, Ted Kord is Blue Beetle before Jaime.

[painofhumanity]

Name: Jackson Ray Fisher  Nicknames: Jack, Jackie/Jackie Ray/Jackie Boy (only his dad) Age: 21 Orientation: homosexual Species: siren Family: Minuet Trill & Martin Fisher (mother & father), Aria Fisher (stepmother bonus mom) Harmony & Melody Trill (older twin sisters), Piper Trill (younger sister), Cadence Fisher (younger half-sister)

(trigger warnings: child death, attempted child murder, child neglect, child abuse)

While there’s some confusion over whether sirens are part bird or part fish, one thing was always understood: sirens were women. Except for the rare occasions when they weren’t. But they were almost always killed before they were old enough to speak, if not right at birth, because it was quickly discovered that when a male siren was allowed to grow and mature, their powers became more dangerous than any female, and they had little to no control over them. 

According to his mother, the last time a male siren had been brought into the world had been about a century or more before Jack was born. His mother had been inclined to keep the tradition and end her son’s life the day he was born, but his father argued and pleaded with her to let him live. “You’re people are dying out, Min. Isn’t it better to have one more in the world, even if he is a boy?” The truth was that his father, Martin, could no more watch his son die than he could any of his daughters. But he knew bringing up the plight of her dwindling species was the only thing that could stay Minuet’s hand. Martin swore to Jack that his mother tried to love him as she did his two older sisters, but that over time she became too disgusted by how unnatural his existence was. When he started jabbering, as all babies do, Minuet began pulling away from him–as did the twins. His mother, and later sisters, snapped at him any time he tried to speak. 

The abuse only grew worse when his mother was pregnant with his younger sister. His dad did the best he could to mitigate whatever harm she caused, which at the time wasn’t saying much. To be fair, there was a lot Martin didn’t know, as his job on a fishing boat took him away for two to three months at a time, and Jack had been bullied into submissive silence by his mother and sisters. It came to a head when Martin came home early to see his wife’s hands around their sons throat, as she screamed at Jack to “stop fighting, already”. Knowing for a fact that she would never raise a hand to the girls, Martin packed up their things and took Jack upstate.

They were joined not long after by a former friend of Minuet’s who happened to be a fellow siren. She was much more progressive and offered to help raise Jack, and teach him what his powers meant. Though neither of them realized the physical damage until it was too late; Minuet’s strangling had caused long-term damage to his throat and it was many months before Jack could get out more than a croaked couple of words. The psychological damage made it take several more years before Jack felt confident enough to speak in full sentences again. During that time, Martin and their family friend Aria were married, and had a little girl named Cadence. 

Much as they tried to undo the damage his mother had done over the years, Aria did tell him that the sad truth was that his silence actually kept him safe. Because for a male siren, even the spoken word was enough to enthrall a human, and his mood could just as easily have someone falling obsessively in love with him as it could drive them to jump into traffic. So even as he grew more comfortable speaking again around his family, Jack, Martin and Aria ultimately decided that he’d remain silent around other people. He mostly communicated via gestures and writing things down, either on the notepad he kept on him, or on his phone. ASL classes weren’t available at his school, and it wasn’t until he started going to college that he was able to start learning.

[outahell]

  ❝  𝐦𝐲   𝐝𝐚𝐝   𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝   𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 .            never   trusted   ‘em .      so ,     growing   up   i   maybe   saw   one  .   .   .    twice ?      through   school ,     he   never   took   me .       cut   my   cheek   open   pretty   bad   as   a   kid ,      he   just   slapped   a   band   aid   on   it .        hurt   like   fuck ,     school   nurse   freaked   when   she   saw   it   the   next   day ,     sent   me   to   the   hospital   for   stitches . ❞      

@drrsse​ ​                         ♡        

[kittyluvsfandoms]

Hee hoo blade plush (click for quality)