#cw eye truama

[high-voltage-archive]

ouugh that must be so scary. knowing that right infront of each eye is something sharp. something that is a part of you. woahggg,,,,, and did the others not notice? as the points that make You up come closer and closer to stabbing you?? to blinding you? to a point of no return????? They do not notice as you are blinded by yourself. not intentionally though,, but simply through your own inaction??? and to know they do not care enough. that they will not see. perhaps you're yearning for someone to help and that is why you stayed your hand but. no help comes. and the points come ever closer.

sorry askdjfhaldgsg got thoughts about that image ko;l;klagf;lg

got a bit silly with this one

Extra under cut!

also sorry if it's not that readable/understandable. The gist of it is that Terminal is kinda delirious [injured for days on end and trapped in a pit] and when it sees Signal, it thinks that Signal's actually Whole [again, very much... not in his right mind]. Signal freaks out and books it cus... he's not dealing with that.

[burts-baked-bees]

Okay?

OPLA Sanji x Fem!Reader

{masterlist for OPLA Sanji ongoing story}

Tags: Slight angst to fluff, slight pining, Sanji and reader are close friends and have truama bonded, Sanji has no clue he's in love with reader the poor sap

CW: Launguage, mentions of abuse, slight WCI spoliers, mentions of drinking

“I swear I’m one shift away from throwing myself in the godforsaken ocean.” Sanji huffed angrily as he threw himself down in a nearby booth. The Baratie had cleared out for the night leaving the cooks to clean the line and the waiters to clean the dining room, but halfway through the dreaded cleanup Sanji had both metaphorically and physically thrown in the towel. The dish cloth he had been holding went flying across the room as he put his feet up on the booth he was in and groaned indignantly.

“That old shitbag won’t so much as let me breathe on the line! I’m a cook! Not a fucking waiter!” He yelled, turning his head back towards the kitchen, as if Zeff could hear his complaints.

“You think maybe it has something to do with the fact that you call him an ‘old shitbag’?” A voice came from the other side of his booth. A small smile curled his lips as he sat up some and peeked over the rounded edge of the red leather seat.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt your nap time madame?” Sanji laughed as he took in the sight of Y/n laying on her back with her eyes closed in the opposite booth. “So sorry for the inconvenience, but aren’t you meant to be cleaning tables?” He teased as Y/n cracked an eye open and glared at him.

“Aren’t you?” She asked with a sly grin, earning an eye roll and angry huff from the blonde.

“Seems the only thing I’m meant to do is slowly die from boredom in this trash heap of a restaurant.” Sanji sighed as he fell back into his seat, pulling out his lighter and messing with the lid. Y/n laughed softly before sitting up and resting her arms on the dividing seat. She placed her head atop her arms and looked at him with a mock pout.

“Awww is the best chef in the East Blue all bummed that his dad doesn't like his cooking? Again?”

Sanji snapped his lighter closed and raised a finger at Y/n, pointing aggressively at her with a snarl.

“I am the greatest chef in the East Blue. Even if that geezer can’t see it.” He stated, earning a chuckle from Y/n as she sat up and raised her hands in surrender.

“Easy now, no need to shout at a lady.” She cooed as Sanji chuckled and gave her an angry smile, hanging his head.

“How dare you throw my own principles back in my face.” He chuckled as he began fidgeting with the silver ring on his finger. Y/n sighed and rested her chin on her folded arms again, smiling softly at the mop of blonde hair in front of her. She reached over the divider and brushed some of his hair from his face, earning a soft hum from Sanji as he closed his eyes.

“I think we both know he’s only doing and saying these things because he wants the best for you. Though I’ll be the first to admit, his way of going about it is absolute shit.” She laughed as she watched his lips curl into a smile. He looked up at her, her fingers brushing against his cheek as he moved.

“Yeah, I know…” He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. She pulled her hand back and looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “But you're a stowaway as much as me.” Sanji joked, “And yet I’m the one being treated like a sniveling child every fucking time I step foot in that kitchen.” He huffed as he looked over at her through his bangs. She chuckled as she hung her arms over the back of his booth and cocked her head to the side.

“My dumbass thought I could be a pirate and got stuck here paying off a debt cuz’ my ship damaged the hull of this ‘trash heap of a restaurant’.” She fired back, using his own words. He opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it again as he shook his head.

“Yeah that was pretty dumb.” Sanji joked as he pulled his jacket off and tossed it to the seat beside him. Y/n gawked at him before laughing and reaching forward to hit him softly on the shoulder. He leaned away from her and shouted

“Oi! Don’t damage the goods!”

She looked at him with mocking wide eyes and barked a laugh,

“Both Patty and I would have to disagree with you on that one, lover boy.” She snarked as Sanji rolled his eyes. A calm silence filled the space as Y/n sat up on her knees and looked at Sanji. She could see something was going on inside his head, and she knew him well enough to infer that he wasn’t going to say a damn thing. She studied the way his brow furrowed and noted how his eyes seemed more gray then blue in moments like these.

There was a profound sadness in him that she had only caught glimpses of in her three years aboard this ship. A profound sadness that he had more or less shared with her one drunken night in the bar when they should have been sleeping. A profound sadness that she wished every single day she could lift from him. The two sat in silence as the ship rocked softly under them; Y/n felt compelled to speak, to do anything that might help ease his overactive mind.

“Still, knowing what I know, having Zeff treating you like this can’t be good for the ole’ psyche…”

Sanji tensed up slightly at her words and Y/n mentally kicked herself for making that insinuation. She wanted to help him, but after the words left her mouth she felt a heavy guilt fill her bones. She watched as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath before smiling ever so slightly.

“Trust me, love. I may complain like this from time to time-”

“Almost ninety-five percent of the time."

“Ooookay. Almost ninety-five percent of the time, but nothing is worse than… what I came from.” He gave her a somber smile and pulled out his lighter again, flipping the lid open and closed in an almost rhythmic pattern. She returned his sad smile and pushed her baby hairs from her forehead.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” She spoke softly as she looked out at the empty dining room; the tables were cast in an eerie candle light and the china adorning the tables glimmered like stars. Sanji looked at her, as her attention was placed elsewhere, and smiled fondly. He felt a warmth rise in his chest as he took in the curve of her profile. The slope of her nose, the length of her eyelashes, the round of her cheeks. The candle light of the empty room cast dancing shadows on her face that made her look otherworldly; he felt his smile, and eyes soften as he looked at her.

“Y/n I wouldn’t have told you about my shitty past if I didn’t trust you to check in on me like this every now and again.” Sanji spoke softly as Y/n turned her gaze back to him. She was almost stunned to see the expression on his face. The look in his eyes was, most of the time, reserved for the elegant ladies that entered the restaurant day in and day out. And yet here he was looking at her like that. She brushed the fond gaze off and swayed her head back and forth while giving him an apologetic look.

“I know, but it’s still not my place to dredge up old memories of abuse when I don’t even know the full story.” She responded, playing with the ends of her uniform shirt.

Sanji smiled at her and leaned forward in his seat, one hand braced himself on the seat top while the other reached forward and pulled her towards him. Y/n closed her eyes as she felt his lips press against her forehead.

“I appreciate you checking on me. It shows that you care.” He said softly, his words muffled seeing that his lips were still connected with her forehead. She smiled softly as he placed a loud exaggerated kiss to the skin there before pulling away and holding her face in his hand. “Okay?” He asked with a huge smile. She laughed at his theatrics and moved to stand up, leaving Sanji sitting alone in his booth as he looked up at her standing form.

“Whatever you say-” She began as she reached out a hand to help him up. He took it with a laugh and allowed Y/n to pull him to his feet. “-My favorite Baratie waiter.” She finished as she dropped his hand and started walking away from him, stifling her laughter. Sanji stood there with his jaw dropped as she walked away from him, his shock soon turning into a smile as he watched her shoulders shake from holding in her laughter. He let a chuckle slip out as he pushed up his sleeves and made a beeline for her.

“How DARE!” He yelled as he grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground slightly laughing as she yelped and then dissolved into laughter when she broke free. She began running to a nearby table to put distance between herself and him as she pointed at him,

“Not fair!” She yelled, watching as Sanji pointed back at her.

“Don’t you dare get me started on ‘fair’!” He responded as he laughed.

____

Zeff stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching as Sanji ran around tables with that wannabe pirate waitress. He observed in silence as the pair laughed and threw dish towels at each other instead of cleaning tables.

The small boy he once knew, terrified of making connections with those around him due to some dark past he kept to himself, was smling and laughing as he chased around what could only be discribed as a friend.

A small smile curled his weathered lips as he shook his head and walked away, the sounds of youth fading into nothing.

“Not bad, little eggplant… Not bad…”

[evita-shelby]

Strawberries and Cream

I have been visited by the smut fairy and this is pure filth

No minors 🔞

Cw: mentions of past substance and alcohol abuse, some truama, unhealthy coping mechanisms, inappropriate use of strawberries, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, p and v sex, cum eating, food play(i think?)

Gif by @violaobanion

Inspired by this post by @zablife

Jack x eva taglist: @justrainandcoffee @thegreatdragonfruta @emotionalcadaver

1916

Instead of her aunt in Mexico City, it had been decided that Eva must be sent to her Uncle in New York.

At 20 years old she is a wanted terrorist for two countries, but one is willing to forget all she did against them in exchange for money.

The witch has not been the same since the last of her siblings died. She began to hate wearing color, developed an unhealthy attachment to Francisco’s fiancée and coped with her terrible luck with booze and drugs.

She was clean now, only did those last three things recreationally, but black has become her favorite color.

It is out of place here in a brunch hosted by her aunt for a business associate and his stepson.

Kennedy and his 22-year-old stepson were from South Boston, involved in some illicit businesses with her uncles while swimming in riches thanks to the legal ones.

Kennedy was upper class, a failed politician who controlled his party like a modern Kingmaker and would leave it all to the young man devouring a strawberry like she knows he’d devour her pussy.

He is not what they call lace-curtain Irish like the man seated beside him. John ‘Jack’ Nelson had grown up poor, born to a widow and a man plagued with visions of his own death, he knew hunger, cold and that sometimes what you must do is take the weapon in your hands and make sure you don’t miss.

She wants him.

But she cannot let him know that yet. No, right now, she is to make him feel like he’s losing his shot as he ignores the men talking business and her aunt asking him about his studies in Harvard.

The witch wants nothing more than to put his skills to the test.

Once the men leave to resume business, Eva puts her scheme into motion.

Sunbathing in gardens away from prying eyes and where he will come to in his boredom. He may be the heir to Patrick’s fortune, but he is still not privy to all the older man’s secrets. He said he’d go on a walk in hopes of finding her and find her he shall.

Her aunt is away taking care of something or the other with her younger children, Eva’s eschewed the corslet under her dress because the infinite number of hooks are not sexy and she is sure her lace panties are soaked by now.

She lays on the picnic blanket, a naughty book in her hand and the other brings the juicy red strawberries she eats and discards with a performance whores would envy. The witch hates being wasteful and the stickiness of the stems and juice on her bare thighs, her chin and even the perfectly calculated line from her bottom lip to the valley of her unrestrained tits would invite bugs sooner than later, but it’s worth it.

Jack grins when she spreads herself to show him the promised land. Her invitation couldn’t be any clearer and the rising star of Boston is joining her on the blanket faster than mercury.

“So wasteful, some people are starving and you’re here leaving them half-eaten.” He plucked a half-eaten strawberry from her thigh and finished it as he knelt between her legs.

“I recall you leaving a few half-eaten earlier.” The witch tossed her book aside and pulled the burly man by his shirt up to her face.

He tasted of whiskey and cigar smoke and strawberries as he took the hint and began to kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. Jack followed that trail of juice down her chin, her neck and pulled the top of her sundress to reveal her tits.

Jack buried his face into her breasts and wasted no time in leaving a love bite on the underside of her breast. He’ll leave her covered in hard to explain marks by the time he leaves.

“Bet your pussy tastes like strawberries, doll.” One hand bunched up her skirt and the other kneads the breast he hadn’t been servicing with his proud mouth.

“Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Nelson?” the witch ran her hand through his now disheveled hair as he went lower and lower until he reached his goal. She doesn’t mean to pull his hair when he kissed and bit her inner thigh as he set down to business, but the groan vibrating through her cunt has her pull harder to make him do it again.

She wants him. Not just for today, she wants him to be hers forever.

If anyone heard or saw this, they’d be forced to marry to cover up the scandal.

And yet the sounds he has her make, the vulgar sound of him eating her out spurs him on. Eva can bet he’s hard as oak underneath those trousers of his.

As the witch cries out louder and louder as he goes deeper with his fingers and tongue making her buck against his face, she knows she can live with that.

The gangster doesn’t stop finger fucking her even after he’s lapped up all of her cum, no, he wants more just as badly as she does.

Jack kisses her, savors the taste of her pussy along with her like the gentleman his stepfather wants him to be.

“I think, “ Eva’s barely recovered the ability to say more than his name and with a smirk she tells him exactly what she wants from him. “ I think I prefer strawberries with cream.”

“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Nelson.” If they’re already going to end up doing the time might as well do the crime.

The witch leans back on her elbows and enjoys the show as he undid the buttons on her trousers and sprung free from its confines. It’s hard, already sporting some pre-cum at the head and ,if Jack hadn’t prepared her, the witch would say it looked like it would hurt.

“I want them to hear in their office how good I fuck you, how much of a whore you are for daddy. Ignoring me all morning and now they’ll see how you’re begging me to fill you up with a bastard.” His words contrast how he takes his caution to keep from hurting her, she knows it won’t take long for him to jackhammer into her and have her forget who she is.

“Is that a threat, daddy.” She used to find that type of sexual play odd and strange, but it spurs him on to hear her call him that. And who knows, Eva may end up making him a real daddy after this.

That thing of his doesn’t look like it’s capable of missing it’s mark.

“Not a threat, doll, a promise.” He punctuates his words by throwing her leg still sticky with strawberry juice over his shoulder and making her see stars with this new angle.

Jack could ask her to kill the president with a shoestring and she’d agree if he kept hitting that sweet spot inside her while playing with her clit.

They are sticky with sweat and strawberries when he comes with her name in his demonic mouth. A harsh kiss as he settles beside her and the hand on her clit leaving it to grab one of the remaining strawberries in the porcelain bowl and rubbing the fruit where his creamy seed spills from inside her.

They laugh in between kisses and she greedily consumes the cum covered fruit with a moan.

She wants to do this every day for the rest of her life, and she tells him so as they lay there fucked out and as good as married.

“Give me a second and I’ll make sure they have no choice but to get us hitched.” Jack pulled her to her side and chased the taste of his own cum as a prelude for what was to come.

Its to no one’s surprise that Miss Eva Smith is pregnant when she walks down the aisle wearing white like a virgin.

[insomanic-fanfication]

🍃🌹The Tower XVI: Bruce Wayne x Male Reader 🌹🍃

The request:'I was wondering if you'd be intrested in a request where either Bruce or Jason fall for Joker's son. Being raised by Joker would be a terrifying childhood. Maybe they do something unexpected like save one of the batfam from an explosion by controlling the flames, a last second decision that gets them hurt instead but makes Joker mad enough to state/imply his son will be punished later?' - @xweirdo101x

CW: Child abuse, normal Gotham violence, Joker being comic Joker, drug abuse (Reader), Mention Abuse, mention of wounds and blood, Unhealthy/ toxic relationship (Bruce x Reader).

Viewers discretion is advised: this is a very heavy fanfication, only read it when you are in the right headspace too. Do not report: don't like, don't read. These type of fanfics can help some people cope with truama. Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

------Fanfic is under the cut------

You weren't actually Joker's son, you were an Asylum baby, meaning you were born in the Asylum from one of the patients. While living in Arkham Asylum, at some point after the events of Jason's torture. Harley still wanted to be a mother figure, hence why everyone calls you the son of Joker.

They made you into their little plaything, forcing you to playhouse with them. You were a god damn adult and yet here you were sitting at a table made of rotting wood with two pieces of insufferable trash. The fake blonde holding your head to her chest while, her "puddn'" tells the events of the day. The action would have been comforting, it would be, if it was a welcomed touch. It wasn't, but at this point you knew, it didn't matter what you wanted.

They had you wear a painted and chipped clown mask to hide your face, you wouldn't complain about this. it's something you can control, of who can know your Identity, your true self. At least they allowed you to paint it how you wanted.

Bandages were another staple of your body. They protected all of the cuts and bruises that were inflicted on you, along with that protection they were sobering reminders of your life. When you did something wrong, Joker would torture you similarly to how he did with Jason, each time you felt more of yourself slipping away. Leaving in it's absents, a sense of hopelessness.

Your screams echoing from the walls, that chased the sounds of bones cracking. The man, your punisher, lecturing you on how, it's your own fault for him causing pain, because you were bad. To remind you that you will always get hit, by the ones who don't get the joke. 'What joke is there?..'.

It was Nightwing that first found you during one of your benders. You were laying on the floor dazed staring at the ceiling, mistaken for dead, if it wasn't for your weak breathing. Syringes with similar greenish residue scattered around the room, a liquid version of the gaseous fear toxin? Your bandages barely wrapped anymore and many of your scabbed wounds and healed cuts visible. Some as new as yesterday and others older than years. Blood dripping on to the floor from the newer wounds, the colour showing you were alive, at least physically.

All you, yourself could register within sensory, was the illusioned world your own mind created with the help of your only true friend. The walls moving like startled bugs, while the floor was trying to swallow you whole. Your head feeling full of cotton. It's hard to feel scared, when this world was better than your own. It's so peaceful, so blissful. You felt water leaking from your eyes, slowly.

Nightwing had no idea how to handle this situation, he has dealt with drug addicts a couple of times. During his career at the Gotham Police Department, though it was always the paramedics that took care of them. The sickening dread growing in volume as his senses take in the room. After some thinking, he comm 'ed for Batman to come to his location, after he left the room, you were in, to wait in the living room of the rundown house.

He didn't want to walk too far away, but he also knew if he wanted to keep himself to together, he had to step back. He thought about talking to Jason first, but snice you were in contact with Joker. Decided against it, as it may end up with a fight or screaming match. Either way, it would make it worse not better.

When Batman arrived at the crumbling tome of the house you stayed in, Nightwing gave him the rundown. He had been looking into reports he found about odd activity around the area. When he saw you enter this building, he decided to wait to see if others would show up. No one did, so he went to investigate, only finding you in a drug altered state barely knowing what's happening outside of the drug trip.

'Have you checked for a pulse yet?', the detective masked tone didn't go unnoticed to Nightwing, 'Uh, no, I haven't. I was concerned if I did, he would attack, and I had no back up. Though, he's still breathing.', the only reply he got was a low grunt of acknowledgment. The Bat's eyes not looking away from the entrance of the room.

'Before, you go in. I feel like I should mention, it looks like he used a liquified fear toxin to get high.', he paused to let the information sink into his former mentor, 'it's odd to say the least'. A deep questioning sigh leaving the bat, himself. 'The fear toxin normally doesn't have that affect, not even to Scarecrow or Joker.'. with purpose of investigating, the older man enters the room.

As Batman's eye scanned the room, his mind was analyzing everything about the situation. The liquified fear toxin, the dried blood splatter on the floors and walls. The blood coated weapons that undoubtably would match some of the wounds on your person. The location and angle of the wounds meaning you didn't do them yourself. It made his nerves stand on end. It was a living picture of past memories.

While crouched, he made it a point to stay at a respectable distance. Gently shaking your shoulder to identify how responsive you were. Instead of an expected attack, the reaction the bat received was a flight response. A trembling man scrambling to the corner of the room. Crying out and pleading, rambles that were barely decipherable.

The only words he was able to make out, were concerning in themselves. Joker, no more, I won't be bad again. Your overall mental distress was more so. The bat dressed hero began his attempts in calming you, all the while feeling his son's eyes on him. Statically, it was unwise to bring you back to the Batcave, instead they chorused you into staying at Dick's apartment. You were still safe, Though Dick was the most feral of the Robins, he had mellowed out tremendously with his new title of Night wing.

In the beginning of your stay, your behavior very much mirrored that of a newly adopted cat. You were allowed anywhere in the apartment, though you mostly preferred to stay in the guest bedroom. Slowly, you opened up, talking more and being more comfortable in the apartment. On the other hand, staying sober wasn't as easy as it sounded, along with unlearning bad habits. Dick and Bruce, on more than one occasion finding food hidden in your room.

A lot of your habits, Bruce has helped with before, though his sons were barely teenagers. While helping you, he was able to talk to you on the same level. Bruce tried to keep an emotional distance from you, the analytical half of his personality, fully aware you couldn't develop a healthy relationship in your state. The softer side of his personality, however, didn't stop your advancements. His emotions auguring that your advancements weren't serve enough, to have you stop them.

They weren't harmful, you weren't trying to seduce him like Cat Women, or Poison Ivy. No, your advancements were more sensual, than sexual. Often being cuddled into his side, your face being buried into his neck. Why should he tell you to stop? For you to close back into yourself? After the years it took for you to become this comfortable around people. No! He doesn't want that to happen, for your progress to decline. You can learn proper boundaries, later on.

Bruce wasn't sure how-to response the first time it happened, it caught him off guard, something very few people could do. Bruce had been visiting the apartment, to log any possible progress from you. The black-haired male, wanting to begin the next steps in your rehabilitation. During a conversation between him, and his oldest son, you had been painting. Some point, within the conversation both of their attentions had been pulled away from you. Only returning, when the feeling of your weight resting on Bruce's side became present.

You had cuddled into him to take nap. The action in itself was simple, however the implications of it was weighed in gold. It meant you trusted him; you find comfort in him. His breathe hitched as his body went ridged, almost as if he was placed into an ice bath.

'He just fell asleep on you, ya know? He didn't stab you.', his son chirped with amusement. The sharp look his father gave him in return, might as well as stabbed Dick. Although, he has seen that look far too many times for it to have an effect. Dick's shit eating grin being apparent of that.

Once it was agreed you were trustworthy enough, i.e. too many of the gremlin children banded together to complain that they haven't said hello to you yet. A visit to the Wayne Manor was set up for you, unbeknownst to you it was actually a test to see if you could handle living at the manor. Snice, the sensory within the manor could possibly be too overwhelming for you. The manor would be better suited for accommodating you, especially with the needed security. That being said, it was only your choice to make and no one else.

As for what everyone thought of you, the opinions were mixed, from some seeing you as a victim, to others seeing you as a threat. Mostly, it was in-between a victim needing support, and someone that should keep distance from.

One of the fully fledged opinions, Jason was enraged just by the fact that Dick got Bruce involved in general, as he sees Bruce as being at fault for you being a victim in the first place because, Bruce let's Joker live. Damin, thinking is black and white, you have hurt quite a few of them during battles, you shouldn't come to the manor, let alone know who they all were. It doesn't matter if you were forced to in his eyes.

That was until they actually talked to you, some of the opinions changed, mostly the more negative ones. Jason couldn't even look at you though, you reminded him too much of what happened to him. The rest in their own ways gave you a chance, or to at least to hear you out.

For the most part, you were glued to Bruce's side like always, either sitting in the chair next to him or attempting to fuse to his side. Tim pointed out to the bat themed hero, that he isn't helping your recovery, if Bruce didn't teach him healthy boundaries. With that in mind, Bruce isn't known for listening to what other's voice to him.

He wouldn't say that he was obsessed with you, he was just protective of you is all. You had been hurt without him, so you need to stay with him for it to not happen again. At least, that's how you understood it, that was your thought process. You needed protection, you needed comfort; Bruce was both within your eyes, your savior.

On the black-haired male's point of view, he was conflicted to the highest degree. He felt it was his fault Joker got his hands on you, it didn't matter that he couldn't have known you existed. It was still his fault! It was another flaw, another mistake for him to stab into his memory. To torture himself, to harm himself in a way no one could stop or detect.

Those were the thoughts whirling in Bruce's mind as he held your sleeping body, his heart pounding. You had voiced how the vast expanse of coldness, that was your Manor room, made your skin crawl with anxiety. To ease your distress, he offered for you to sleep in his room with him, which you eagerly accepted.

Nuzzling yourself close to his person, the scene causing his breathe to catch in his throat. This was far from the first time he shared his bed with someone, though this instance, felt much more intense, more intimate. This trumping even his passionate moments, with that night's wayward lover.

The cold room, shrouded in darkness. Besides the soft bedding, your bodies so close together, indulging in the others warmth. The comfortable silence, only being filled with relaxed breathing. No expectation of a sexual favor, only basking in each other's presence. It was a stark difference; the brooded man wasn't ready for.

Even if he wasn't ready for it, nor saw this blooming within his future. He wouldn't change it for the better, he knew it wasn't his healthiest relationship to date. But it was fulfilling for the both of you, so why change it?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: I am very sorry your request turned into this, if you didn't like it. I'm a huge psychological horror fan, and your request gave me feral ideas. I felt That I might never get a chance to put into words again. I'm so sorry this took so long!

Liked what you just read? Please like and Reblog! Check out my blog for similar content like this! I also reblog other Writer's works, so you can check them out too! #Crow!Found!Thing is my personal blog tag for other works I enjoyed from other blogs! #Crow!Writes is my personal blog tag for my original works.

[parental-unit-of-chaos]

Lines drawn in Charcoal : Jason Todd x Male Reader.

This will be the frist writing I've ever posted online, so I hope at least some one enjoys this. @n0cturna1-m3 here ya go!

Cw: mentions of scars, childhood truama, past truama in general, body image issues and self image issues.

Living in a safehouse with Jason has a roommate had it's ups and downs, no matter how many years you've know Jason. It was no secret he had been through a lot, only a small drop of that pain he's shared. Most he keeps in his head, if to remind himself he is still alive or to torture himself to stay in control. You were never sure.

That's what made scenes like this sobering, reminding you that he's still the sweet Jason under all the walls he built up. The Jason that no matter how much he tries to hide it, to cage it, he has a heart bigger than himself. This morning, Jason choose to spend in his favorite reading spot. Slumped in the red padded chair that caught his eye, while walking past the antique store. The thought of leaving the chair or even moving an inch, melted away has soon has your fluff ball decided to join him.

The cat had falling asleep purring hours ago; Jason's attention was only focused on the book that he was half way through. And where were you? You were sat on the couch with your sketchbook and charcoal pencils, capturing each soft and rough line of the handsome man.

Making sure to get every detail and proportion right; his sharp jawline, the soft lines of his lips, his brows knitted in concentration. More importantly how relaxed he was, where he wasn't on edge and paranoid. That the next corner he turns someone will be someone with a gun pointing at him, or worse, someone he cares about.

During one of the times you were looking down at your sketchbook, Jason finally pulled out of the fantasy world he was so engrossed in. Probably from the not so subtle sound of the pencils dragging in short or long strokes on the paper.

' Whatcha drawing now?' he inquired, with his own hypothesis that you were drawing the fluffy croissant in his lap. 'Just my world' you replied causing a sign to leave Jason's lungs at how cryptic the answer was. Sure it still could very well still be the cat, you drew the little whiskered demon everytime she was still. With the vague answer though, it could be a sketch of the city, to your favorite food.

' Ya gonna give me any hints or am I gonna have to geuss on my own?', Jason knew you loved when people tried to geuss what you were drawing. He also loved the weird ass guinea pig like noise that came from your throat, when someone didn't geuss correctly. 'the sketch is of a living thing' now you were intentionally being vague to draw out the game.

' Let me geuss, is it the ball of fluff in my lap? That for some reason, you took one look at, and named spleens??', Jason interrogates with a humored toned. The unique chuckle coming from your vocal cords, was he needed to hear to know he was wrong. 'for the record I explained why I named her spleens, when I first brought her home with me. And Nope! It's a human, a handsome and strong one at that'.

Handsome and strong? Jason had to think harder with that answer; my world, handsome and strong. Was it a trick answer and you were referring to poetry? 'Atlas??', he replied, perplexed. His answer was met with more of a laugh this time, he assumed he got too far away from the answer. You laughing frustrated him,' Fine, enough of the game. I give up, who are drawing?'. He didn't care about winning anymore, just wanting to know the answer.

' It's you', the answer and smile you gave was so simply, but it cut through Jason deeper and with more weight than of of the League of assassins' blades ever could. Him? Your world? Handsome and strong? Jason couldn't see where you were coming from, or more so his insecurities wouldn't allow him too.

This had to of been a sarcastic answer and you actually drew someone else, it has to be. He's seen himself in the mirror, he knows he's not anything but disgusting. He's not handsome, his body looks like a living corpse, all the damn scars that covered his body. The walls felt like they were closing in, there was ringing in his ears. His image, his face, his body changing in the mirror being distorted. Taunting him, proving that no matter how much he tries to move on from what joker did to him, he'll never be anything more than what Joker made him. The memories of his biological father screaming about how much hates him, Batman -

' Jason!', your worried voice and your gentle hands touching his face, with the other on his arm brought him back to the present. He hadn't realized he had been shaking or the panic that exploded out of his chest. 'Breathe, you're going to past out if you don't. Focus on me, follow my pace of breathing.', he did has you said syncing his breathe with yours.

Once Jason finally calmed down fully you asked why he just had a panic attack, 'You don't have to share all of it, you can just give me the cliff notes'. He doesn't know what he did to deserve someone so understanding. 'When you said those things about me, my thoughts got the better of me. Reminding why I can't be any of those things', he stated still a little shakey.

'Do you want to see what I see you had?', he was hesitant, no he was scared to see it, but your voice sounded so reassuring. He trusted you,' If you think it would help, then yes', you gave him the finished sketch. His mind didn't allow him to believe fully that someone could see him like this, he looked normal, he looked so happy. You held his hand and flinched, like he was still on fight or flight.

'When I see you, I don't see you has your trauma or a victim. I see you has a survivor. You aren't who you are, because of joker or anyone else. You made yourself who you are, despite what happened to you.', you took a breathe giving that chance to look him in the eye.

'I read somewhere that in some Asian cultures, when a plate breaks they mend it back together with gold.', Jason felt like he couldn't breathe, he didn't know what to say. 'You aren't something that needs to be fixed has if you were brand new, that's not how truama works. But if let me, can I help mend those wounds with gold? To help build you back up?' Jason couldn't stop the tears that welded up and fell down his face. He pulled into the strongest hug he could muster, he never knew he need to hear those words, until you said them.

You let him cry has long has needed, he's been holding those emotions in for so long. He finally answers the question in a shaky voice, so small you almost didn't hear it.

'yes'

[the-guilty-writer]

To Start

Request From Anon: hii, if its not too much, could you do a Reid x daughter!reader where she is very anxious to start therapy and he talks to her in the car/waiting room?

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: you and your dad, Spencer, talk on the way to your first therapy appointment.

A/N: I like this idea, but I don't love how this turned out most likely due to my personal experience. I have truama because of poor/bad/improper therapy a rough relationship with therapy so I imagined the reader as anxious because she knows that therapy could help, but that doesn't mean she wants to go. I may or may not come back to this idea later and write something a little different.

CW: having to go to therapy

---

You gazed out the window from the passenger seat of your dad’s car as he drove. The traffic wasn’t super thick at this time of day which allowed you to get a clearer view of the environment- a cafe with a green awning advertising a new brew of coffee, people walking with their kids, a flower stand, your favorite bookstore- but nothing about the way you were seeing was clear. The world looked and sounded and felt like a mix of colorful blobs and noise and tension. It was a Monet painting gone wrong.

“(Y/N)? Sweetie, are you okay?”

Your dad’s voice called you back to the present and you turned to look at him. You could clearly see him and clearly hear his words, but everything still felt distant.

“Oh, yeah, dad. I’m okay.” You should have known better than to lie to your dad- he was a profiler after all. Knowing when someone was lying was part of his job and Spencer Reid knew a lie when he saw one.

“I don’t think you are,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t have to talk about it for another,” you looked at the clock, “twelve minutes. And then the talking torture can start.”

Spencer sighed. “Therapy isn’t talking torture,” he said, matter-of-factly. “It’s not an interrogation. If it was an interrogation I would just do it myself.”

“I still don’t get why I can’t just talk to JJ,” you say. “You guys are probably more qualified than some random woman with a notebook and a couch.”

“Actually,” Spencer said, “she’s a friend of Garcia’s. I’ve met her before and she is very nice.”

“Just because she’s nice doesn’t mean I’m going to open up to her about my deepest darkest fears right away.”

Spencer turned into a parking lot and turned off the car. He pulled out the key and sighed before looking over at you. “You’re anxious.”

You didn’t bother trying to hold back tears- they just came. Your dad leaned over the center console and hugged you. You pressed your head to his chest, listening to a familiar steadiness of his heartbeat.

“I don’t like new people,” you told him.

“I know.”

“And I don’t know how to talk about my feelings.”

Spencer let you go so he could look at your face. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know,” he said. “It’s going to be hard for a little while, but after that it will get better and then it will start to help. We wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t going to help.”

“I know,” you whispered, drying your eyes.

“We still have ten minutes,” your dad said. “If you want to talk to me.”

You paused for a moment, mulling it over in your brain.

“I guess I just don’t know why this is so hard. It sounds so easy but every time I think about it-” you cut yourself off, feeling a building pressure in your chest.

Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s not easy, (Y/N). But it’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t know where to start,” you said. “There’s so much in my head and I’m getting lost in it all and I don’t know how to start.”

Your dad smiled just a little bit and got out of the car, moving to the other side to open your door for you. He offered you his hand and you took it- it didn’t matter how old you got, your hand always felt small and delicate and safe in his. He helped you out of the passenger seat before locking the vehicle and walking toward the door to the therapist's office.

“That’s how you start.” He smiled gently at you.

You let out a sigh. “So I guess it's too late for me to opt out of this in favor of an interrogation led by Hotch and Derek.”

Spencer laughed and the tension in your chest loosened just a bit. “I think that might be just as bad.”

“What about an interrogation from Emily?”

“That would be worse,” your dad said, a smile still on his face. It faded just a bit before he spoke again. “It’s going to be okay, (Y/N). You’re going to be okay.”

He gestured to the doorknob and you knew that this was him giving you the out- if you wanted right now he would go in and cancel your appointment, pay the fifty dollar fine for not giving more notice, and you could get back in the car and continue living your life the way you always had. Just the anxiety of thinking about walking into that waiting room and sitting on the sofa and talking was still eating you alive.

But you had already started, so there was no point in turning around now.

[spookymultimedia]

Childish Curiosity

That scene where Cartman asks Heidi if girls have balls except Cartman is intersex

CW: non-sexual nudity, references to past sexual assult and medical truama

Heidi smiled softly at Eric's funny question and hummed out a giggle. It was a funny question but she could see how genuine he was. She composed herself before answering him.

"No, girls don't have balls."

He stared at her in awe at her answer.

"Oh. Well, that's okay I don't have any either."

Heidi blinked at him, processing his response.

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah," he giggled, "I told you I was intersex."

"I just thought it meant you had a hormone imbalance."

"I do have a hormone imbalance." said with an endearing smile.

"It. .it affect your balls?"

"Yeah, they never descended. I'm not even sure if I have internal testes or ovaries"

"Oh." She said looking pretty confused, "then, then what do you have?" She covered her mouth, "sorry that's rude of me to ask."

"Nah it's only fair. I started it anyway."

"So no balls and a dick?"

"No, not quite. It's. . .it's not exactly a penis. It was sort of forced to be a dick. But I've seen my friends' dicks and it looks nothing like any dick I've seen before."

"What do you mean forced?"

"I had ambiguous genitalia, but they changed it to try to make it look like a dick. I have no idea what it originally looked like though."

"Huh."

"It looks. . .it's more like. . It would just be easier to show you honestly." He mumbled.

"You can. . .if you want."

He sat on the edge of her bed, slid off his bottoms and spread out his legs so she could see.

She sat on the floor and tilted her head.

"Wow," she breathed out. It was strange.

He started to feel cold and pulled up his pants.

"You're right it doesn't really doesn't look like a dick."

"And you've seen dicks?"

"Well I've seen Kenny's drawings around the school. And I went to this restaurant that had a statue of a naked guy."

"That's weird, why would they have that?"

"It's not weird, it's art."

"It's still kinda weird."

"Do you want to see what I have?"

"Uh? Sure."

She stepped away and pulled down her pants before pulling up her shirt for him to see. He squinted at her. It was blurry but he couldn't see any external stuff.

"Cool," he said with a smile, not wanting to explain his bad vision. She pulled her pants up and sat next to him to hold his hand. She frowned and noticed he was shaking.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm fine." He mumbled. "I always got kinda shaky when I got naked for. . ." He trailed off like he completely forgot what he was about to say. Or if he had something to say. He could see the memory of the assault in his head but he couldn't seem to comprehend it.

"For who?" She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Um, I- I forget."

"Oh okay."

"I've just . . . never felt safe being naked around someone else before." He admitted.

She looked at him somewhat horrified on his behalf. What could he possibly mean? Whatever it was, she didn't feel good about it.

She petted his hand.

"Do you want water or something?"

He shook his head.

She leaned against his shoulder.

"Sometimes, I wonder what I would look like without surgery. What it would be like." He mumbled.

"Do you wish you had your natural junk?"

Tears tipped his eyes, "All the time."

She quietly pulled Cartman into a hug.

"I wasn't sure if . . .if assigned females had balls or not because. I just wasn't sure what stuff was labeled as what sex anymore. I thought maybe everyone had balls except me and I was just late to develop. . .I don't know."

". . .oh."

[xenons-auxiliary-depths]

Ghost girl

Dunno if this will be a new oc or anything but i wrote a story with her if that counts for anything

cw: mild violence... also truama...

Shoko absolutely despised ghosts. She started seeing them two years ago, and they always unnerved her. The first time she saw one, she screamed and pointed at it, yelling at her mom and dad about the dark, featureless blob. They stared at her in bewilderment: how would they know about something they couldn’t see?

Thankfully, she didn’t see them too often, but she was still on edge whenever they appeared. Over time, Shoko could discern that they were all human shaped. The blob-shaped veils that the ghosts were hidden behind disintegrated as her eyes became more adapted to seeing them.

Every time she saw one, whether it was lurking in her school or on the way home, she’d still get startled. Whenever she acknowledged their presence, they stared right back at her with their dark piercing gaze. To others, however, it was like she was panicking over nothing. By the time a year of this passed, her entire school was referring to her as “that weird ghost girl” who was always shivering and pointing at thin air, claiming to see illusory phantasms.

Shoko had become the school’s laughing stock, and she hated it. More often than not, someone asked her “Hey, ghost girl, how haunted is the school today?” in a mocking tone. She’d push them off every time, growing more and more annoyed.

However, there was one time when she and her parents visited a museum that changed everything.

A ghost happened to be in the building, and it was hostile. Shoko had dealt with these types of spirits before: she had to run and hide from them on account of her not being able to physically hit them, and usually retained minor injuries. This one, however, was different. It radiated malice that was so palpable to her that she couldn't help but be kept on edge the entire time.

The ghost's form reflected this, its massive lumbering form hovering inches above the ground as it slowly floated through the building. It had long hair that dragged on the floor as it moved, as well as large hands tipped with razor-sharp nails.

When Shoko first saw it, she fell onto the ground and screamed about the ghost to her parents, but, like all other times, they didn't believe her. They didn't want their trip to the museum ruined by some illusory phantom either, so they dismissed her concerns and went on with their exploration.

As they journeyed around the museum and inspected each exhibit, Shoko kept glancing around for the ghost. She knew it was there. It had to be there since she felt its presence everywhere in the building. It didn't help that everyone was giving her strange looks as she walked through the museum. The trip thankfully went smoothly… that is, until it was nearly over.

As Shoko and her parents were approaching the museum's exit, they turned a corner. The first thing that Shoko saw in front of her was the ghost. She screamed and fell back down on the ground, stuttering as she tried to tell her parents about the creeping phantasm. Everyone looked at her strangely as her parents, now slightly annoyed, stood her back up and dragged her to the exit.

They got closer and closer to the ghost, with Shoko breathing faster and attempting to struggle against her parents as they continued to pull her to the exit. When she finally got close enough to the ghost that it could reach out to her, it grabbed her so strongly that it pulled her off the ground, effortlessly breaking her parents' grips in the process.

To Shoko, she was now at the mercy of a phantasm, helplessly dangling in its grasp as it began tightly gripping her neck. However, to everyone else, it looked as if she was inexplicably levitating and struggling against an unseen entity. Now that she was close enough, she could see the ghost's face clearly. It was the decayed face of a woman, with unblinking red eyes that stared directly at hers. It began strangling her, its sharp nails digging into the skin of her neck as she began to struggle against it.

Everyone stared at the spectacle unfolding before them as Shoko's parents shouted her name and attempted to pull her back to the ground. As Shoko drifted closer to unconsciousness, she suddenly heard a gunshot coming from behind her. Nobody seemed to react to it, but the ghost wailed in pain, its screams reverberating only in Shoko's ears as she collapsed on the ground.

This memory had been plaguing Shoko for the past couple days. She laid in bed, covering her ears with her blanket. Ever since the video of that event went viral, everyone wanted to get her side of the story. Shoko just wanted to sleep.

[kdmerchant]

You're still here?

O well... I guess I am too. Ugh.

Chapter 11, CW about discussing sexual truama.........

.......

Paradigm had always felt lopsided, she doubted a good rub down would change that, but she really was feeling better where he had tended. She plopped back down on the cot and offered her left leg; he gripped her tight by the upper thigh and worked his thumbs masterfully. That wonderful rouge worked its way onto Paradigm’s cheeks as she remembered the dream.

“You mentioned before you like ducks.” She said as her skin crawled. Paradigm wanted those talented hands to explore her differently, but she knew that was not an option. She looked up at the tents ceiling. Halsin hummed an enthusiastic affirmative.

“The ducks exhibit amazing community. If a hen dies while rearing another hen will take up the orphans no problem. If an adult partner dies the other partner mourns the loss. They have the ability to feel strong emotions and it shows, and it shows that overall they choose to care for one another as a species instead of tearing each other apart.” The awe flowed through Halsin’s voice and he smiled while spilling his knowledge.

“As long as its not rutting season.” Paradigm partly jested. She had spent plenty of time by lakes and ponds hunting, she knew male ducks would rush females to the point of them getting plucked or dying if there were not enough females around.

“That’s a good point.” Halsin said, weighing that fact. “Nature can be ugly.”

“You know that ducks only mate for a season, have babies, and choose another mate the next year?” Paradigm asked, only to add, “there is a common misconception that they mate for life. Some do choose the same partner again but most move on.”

“That’s a big thing I admire about them.” Halsin nodded while he spoke. “They forge unforgettable bonds, but aren’t afraid to seek out more.” The twinkling in his eyes faded as a memory of Thaniel squatting by a lake and sharing the company of baby ducks that had been abandoned. Paradigm watched the sparkle fade and touched his face.

[fluffyplushiez]

"Why are you crying? This is what you wanted after all. You're not really that upset after your first mission? I created you specifically for this purpose, and yet you've already broken down? Well, no matter, I can always make another one of you, but even less of a crybaby and even stronger than your current potential."

Animosity loses her left eye and back legs while trying to flee her captor.

[frechiiie]

you guys aren’t ready to hear this fic/comic idea I had involving conker and his family so I’ll share what I posted on my discord

cw: referenced child abuse, verbal abuse, family death, funerals, childhood truama

—-

Conker is staying with Banjo, a letter that gets delivered to them; and it’s addressed to conker, it’s from his father. He’s a bit hesitant to open it and read it but banjo reassures him that he can if he wants to, so he does. It’s a letter/invitation

Conkers mother passed away, his dad and the family want him to come to the funeral to pay respects. He’s shocked, it’s hard to read what he’s thinking. But there’s a bit of sadness in his eyes, banjo hugs him. After the hug banjo asks conker if he’s going to go to the funeral, conker doesn’t answer, hes processing the letter, rereading it over and over. There’s a bit of fear in his eyes because he recognizes his fathers handwriting, him asking his son to go to just kind of takes him back to his childhood.

Not happy memories.

Banjo notices his distress and he asks conker if he’s okay, conker shakes it off and decides to take a walk alone. Banjo stands there watching him leave for a moment before looking at the letter, he remembers the time he interacted with his parents when they were kids. They seemed normal and nice whenever conker invited him over, but banjo has a feeling that there could be something wrong that’s causing conker to be a little off by the invitation from his father.

maybe they weren’t so nice, I mean, conker never talked to him about how his parents were. he doesn’t want to ask, since he also never really opened up about how neglectful his parents were to him. Once conker comes back after like 20 to 30 min, he tells banjo he wants to go to the funeral.

but he asks for a favor

He wants banjo to come with him; he doesn’t want to go by himself, he just wants to pay respects and leave as soon as he can. He doesn’t tell banjo why, he just kind of…Asks him in a more pleading tone; desperate for him to agree but not making it obvious.

Banjo notices this and agrees, because he wants to be there for him.

Once that day hits, banjo and Conker head over to travel to where it’s taking place, aka: conkers hometown. Kazooie stays behind to watch the home and such, but her and banjo had a hard time leaving one another because they had never been apart for this long but for conkers sake, she and hi agreed that she needed to stay and watch everything.

During their travels banjo boldly asks conker what his mother was like, conker responds “She always told me right from wrong and did everything my dad said.”

Banjo knew, this was not going to go well..

Once they finally arrive after a day of traveling, conker is hit with a lot of memories seeing his old hometown, memories he is not happy to remember. He was frozen in place not moving an inch closer, terrified out of his mind if he goes in. Banjo sees this and holds his hands, reassuring him that he’s here, he’s with him.

Conker snaps out of it and hesitated to move but does so as they’re walking by holding hands, ok I envisioned that…

As they’re walking, the camera is away from where they are walking, basically following where they’re going. when they walk passed a tree, it cuts to them being younger, holding hands, not a care in the world in the same place. The camera follows them, another three passes by, they’re adults again, still holding hands.

Finally they made it to conkers home where his and his mothers family were outside talking and such, the second conker sees his house he just quickly lets go of banjos hand and stuffs them in his hood pockets. The regret of coming here soon clashes in him and Conker tries to turn back but it’s too late, everyone saw him. All eyes are on him and banjo, conker is cursing at himself.

He walks closer as banjo follows closely with him, the feeling of his family’s eyes on him really just spiked up his anxiety, he’s fighting to get himself a drink or smoke, anything to help make this nervousness go away. And then right there not far from him is his dad. They both look at one another, not sure what to say. There’s complete silence, conker gets nervous. But he does his best to try not to show it in-front of his father.

Finally the silence is broken and his dad says

“Well look who FINALLY showed up, and here I thought you weren’t gonna make it to your own mothers funeral.”

“Yeah, hey Chuck.”

“This damn boy still calls me “Chuck”, ain’t that just something, you got some balls after leaving us, son. The fact that this is the damn time you show up to see the family is just typical for your behavior.”

“jesus christ, can we not do this right now? Please?”

As they’re talking, banjo is standing close behind conker, just in utter disbelief at what he’s witnessing and hearing. This was NOT the Chuck he met when he was younger. Not one bit.

Banjos instinct to grab conker and run as far away as he can go.

But then conkers dad notices banjo and he asks why the hell hes here, this is family only and Conker responds “You know him, you were close to his damn dad. I invited him along.” His dad grunts but steps closer to banjo and starts asking him “Hm, fine, it’s been a while Banjo, what do you do for a living? You got a wife? Kids?”

Banjos a little taken back by these questions and he goes “h-hello sir, I uh…don’t really have a job but I-“

“Tsk, what kind of man doesn’t have a job? You a freeloader like my son?”

Conker cringes at that, Banjo pauses at that “what?”

“At least tell me you got yourself a wife.”

“No sir, I live with my sister kazooie as I’m taking care of my little sister tootie-“

“You’re a grown ass man with no job, no wife, no kids? you’re wasting your life away, with your type you’d be a fine addition to the army and yet you’re just sitting at home being a lazy bum like my son.”

Conker just doesn’t say anything, he’s looking away not making eye contact at all as he’s trying to hide deeper within his hoodie. Banjo is standing there, getting angry. he’s starting to loose his cool.

But then one of the family members interrupts their interaction and says that the funeral is about to begin shortly. As everyone gets ready, conker pulls banjo to the side for a moment as they talk

“Banjo- I know what you’re thinking-“

“Does he always treat you like this?”

“Look just- just keep quiet and once-“

“Does he always treat you like this?”

“….I didn’t exactly have a ‘great’ childhood.”

“oh my god-“

“Please just promise me you won’t say anything, I just wanna get this done and we’ll be out of here and you’re never gonna see him again.”

“Conker, your own father was belittling you! His own son- in front of the entire family! I don’t care what he has to say about me but hearing him talk about you like that-“

“Banjo. Promise me you won’t say anything”

“But-“

“Damn you! just promise me!”

“…….okay.”

—-

Wanna know what happens after? Just say “HAND OVER THE SECOND PART OR PERISH!!”

[rjhpandapaws]

Orignal Work, Reed900, Murder Case - Man and Woman, YK Model Found, Truama, Nicholas, Case Closed, To Be Decommissioned, Taken In By Pair, Recovery

//Feelings. This may get its own full length work at some point bc I loved writing it //Cw for homicide, child trauma and the things that come with that, and a graphic-ish depiction of violence.

This case was one that neither Gavin or Richard had seen before. Normally something like this would be handled by Hank and Connor but they were working a high profile serial killer case and couldn’t spare the time or manpower which left the other human android detective duo. Gavin was looking over the crime scene as Richard scanned it looking for evidence. He was about to interface with the deactivated YK500 model but as soon as he touched the smaller android  the little boy’s eyes fluttered open and locked on Richard wide and full of panic. One eye was a deep forest green and the other was shut off from damage. He squeezed Richard’s arm tight enough that if it had been Gavin it would have bruised. Richard let the skin on his arm fall away and called for Gavin as the interface started. “Gavin, we’ve got a survivor in here!” He called before he allowed the interface, the last thing he heard before he was pulled under was Gavin’s rushed footsteps coming into the room.

YK500 531-213-41 Designation: Nicholas is requesting contact: Y/N Y Interface initiated

Nicholas: are my parents okay? Richard: We have people helping them Richard: Can you tell me what happened here?

He felt echoes of Nicholas’s panic as the memories travelled through the interface. He had seen the whole thing, and screamed so the killer had gone for him next, they were human by the looks of it and the fact that the blood left at the crime scene was red. They cut the interface soon after and Richard let go of Nicholas, but the child model was still clinging to him. When Richard was fully aware of himself again he motioned Gavin over, he was better with kids. “This is my friend Gavin, he’s also a detective he’s gonna ask you some questions while I check on your parents.” The child model turned his head so he could see Gavin, he gave the detective a once over before moving to cling to the human detective. Richard looked at Gavin, “I don’t know that he can speak so let him interface with your work tablet or phone please.” Gavin nodded and Richard headed back to the main crime scene.

He scanned it for more evidence now that the cursory scan was over and they had found Nicholas, he wanted to go over the crime scene with a fine toothed comb to find everything he could. He sampled evidence, scanned the room again, and ran reconstructions. He came away with three DNA profiles, two belonging to the victims and the third from their biological son who was in his thirties, the same man from Nicholas’s memory.. He was returning to Gavin when he heard the detective yelled. “Get some fucking techs in here! Nick is crashing!” Gavin’s voice shook, he was angry and was fighting off tears. Richard ran the rest of the way. He skidded to a halt in front of the YK model. “Gavin, if we get asked about this, it’s for the case. Nicholas is living evidence okay.” Gavin was rightfully confused. Richard kneeled down and forced an interface with Nicholas.

Richard: Don’t be afraid, I am going to back up your memories okay Nicholas: I don’t want to go! I want to stay until my mom and dad get back! Richard: Let me do this okay? You’ll be taken care of I promise. He felt Nicholas hesitate for a moment before he gave Richard access to his memories. He was as gentle as possible as he took them, saving them to a locked file simply titled ‘nick’. The techs arrived a short time before he finished and Gavin kept them at bay with the evidence argument. Richard pulled away once he was done and they took his place. They didn’t have anything else they could do here. They did have a suspect by the name of Jacob Hall to track down. Richard was working on getting the warrant for his arrest, using some of Nicholas’s memories and the evidence from the crime scene. the fact that a child’s life was on the line expedited the process. When he received the warrant he emailed it to Gavin, and worked on tracking down Jacob’s last known address. Gavin let him work in silence, but he could see something was eating at him Richard could tell. Normally he would wait for Gavin to say what was bothering him, but the android had a feeling he already knew. “He’s going to be okay Gavin, I have a back up of his memories so even if the technicians can’t get him back online we can find another model to upload him to.” He heard Gavin sigh. “That’s not the point Rich, he’s only hanging on because he thinks he’ll get to see his parents again.” Gavin said quietly, his voice was quiet and unsteady, “There is no one left here to look after him. Would it really be worth it to wake him at all?” “We’re here aren’t we?” Richard asked, “We could always look after him.” “Richard, Nicholas is a whole ass child, he is going to stay a whole ass child unless he decides he wants to be part of the Growing Up program,” Gavin sounded like he was making plans, like he was considering it, “He’s gonna be shut down if no body claims him. I couldn’t let that happen.” “Take a left up here detective.” Richard interrupted. “Raising a kid isn’t like taking care of a cat.” Gavin sighed, “What if he hates us?” “I don’t think he will.” Richard reassured as he placed a steady hand over Gavin’s on the steering wheel. “If we get in trouble for this I’m blaming you.” Richard nodded, before something caught his eye out his window, “Gavin I need you to either slow down or pull over.” “What?” Gavin was snapped out of his thoughts by Richard unbuckling and reaching for the door, “Richard we are going 50!” “That’s why I need you to slow down detective, I saw the suspect, I will send you my location when I have him apprehended.” Richard replied opening his door. “Richard what the fuck!” Was all Richard heard as he rolled out of the car, when he came to a stop, he stood and followed the suspect. When he was close enough he announced his presence, “Detroit Police, I would like to speak with you for a moment.” Jacob broke into a run, so did Richard. The android had an easier time navigating the terrain than the human did and soon had him in cuffs. He pinged Gavin and the detective showed up a short time later serving the warrant and read him his rights.

The interrogation was a struggle for them both, Gavin was livid and let it show, and Richard was struggling not to do the same. He was supposed to be the reasonable one, he was the android but, this was something else. None of them had done anything wrong. Gavin was getting close to his breaking point, child cases were hard for any detective, but they hit a little too close to home for both Gavin and Hank. Jacob was also spitting a lot of android remarks that were getting under Gavin’s skin. About a year and a half ago he had shared those sentiments. “Detective, why don’t you take a break, go catch your breath.” Gavin looked like he wanted to argue, but it seemed to dawn on him that this wasn’t a suggestion, “Get yourself some coffee. I could use some thirium while your there.” “Alright,” Gavin responded as he got up to leave, “If you need me I’ll be on the other side of the glass.” He was almost to the door when Jacob piped off again, “So you let it order you around then? Some detective you are.” Gavin turned to start a fight and Richard stopped him by grabbing his shoulders and blocking the detective’s path with his body, “Gavin, it’s not worth it, go catch your breath.” The android whispered. Gavin wilted a little but left the interrogation room to go take a breather. Richard turned and took the seat across from Jacob at the table and gave a sinister grin, “I know you don’t like androids, and that works fine for me because I don’t like most humans. Here’s the thing though; I’m not the one of us that is going to need to leave the room to maintain bodily function, I can sit here until you decide to talk. So we can talk about why you decided to kill your parents and adopted younger brother, or we can have the world’s longest staring contest.” “It wasn’t my brother.” Jacob said curtly after Richard had finished. “I moved out and they replaced me with a robot child so they could still feel useful.” Richard grit his teeth, “So you killed them? Why not steal Nicholas?” He hated suggesting that, “Why did it have to be murder?” “They replaced me!” Jacob shouted, “I left for college, to pursue dreams of my own and they just buy another kid! One that won’t grow up, never rebel, never disobey, and never leave. Why bother with your independent human son when you have a little play thing that would never grow up?” “So you murdered your parents and little brother, because you were jealous?” Richard asked again, deliberately using the title for Nicholas, because as long as Jacob was mad he would talk. “That little scrap heap wasn’t my brother, it was my replacement!” He snapped, “They all had it coming, but especially that little toy.” Richard leaned forward, he could feel the confession coming. “I knew where he was the whole time you know.” Jacob said with a sinister smile, “There’s this table in the entry where with a cabinet under it in the entry way, I used to hide there too. I let him see what I did to my parents as i took them from him. Let him see what I was going to do to him. Show him what he had caused.” Jacob paused, he didn’t seem to realize he was referring to Nicholas by male pronouns and Richard wasn’t about to tell him. “Then he had to fucking scream. Someone heard him so i had to be quick, I couldn’t to what I wanted to so I just beat his head against the stairs until he shut off. He was crying the whole time, like it actually hurt him. Like he could feel it.” Richard felt sick, which was quite a feat considering as he didn’t have any organs. Rage boiled beneath the surface, but he kept his temperament in check, “You are aware that legally speaking androids are people right? Despite what your personal opinion might dictate. So if Nicholas cannot be saved you are going to be booked on three counts of first degree murder.” Richard stood and nodded toward the two way mirror, “Thank you for the full confession though, it makes our job a lot easier.” Jacob was still puttering with anger as Richard left. Gavin met him in the hall and looked at him with concern. “Your LED is red.” He answered Richard’s unspoken question, “Turned as soon as you left the room.” Richard took the offered bottle of thirium and opened it, “Fifty stab wounds between the two of them all because they wanted another kid. He beat Nicholas’s head against the stairs until he went into emergency shut down and just left him there.” This was Richard’s first case involving a child, and he was starting to see why the other officers hated them so much. They hurt.

Three days later they got the call about Nicholas, he was fully repaired and ready for his memories to be reuploaded. If nobody claimed him after the trial he would be decommissioned. They were ready, they had papers for temporary custody of him while they waited on the adoption papers to come through. They went to the android hospital. Nicholas was in a bed and in stasis. His synthskin was on and he looked peaceful like this. Now that parts of his face were not chipped off and missing. Richard approached the bed and let the skin of his hand fall away. He apologized to the quiet room before he started the memory transfer. When it completed Nicholas woke himself up screaming and Richard was quick to try and soothe him. They were still connected so he send waves of calm and comfort over the link until the fearful pained cry settled onto sniffles and sobs. He sat on the bed and hugged the child model to him. “They aren’t coming back are they?” Nicholas asked once he was able to speak, “Humans don’t get to come back.” Nicholas sniffled again and his breathing stuttered before he spoke again, “You are going to have me talk at the trial and then I am going to be shut down because no one wants a damaged kid.” Gavin spoke before Richard did, “Remember what I said to you on the couch kiddo? That I wasn’t gonna let anyone else hurt you. That means Cyberlife too. Richard and I signed some papers so you can come stay with us after this.” Nicholas turned to look at Gavin, and Richard noticed their eyes were pretty close in color, “Do you promise?” “I cross my heart.” He came to sit on the other side of Nicholas. “You’ll be here for a couple more days, so they can make sure that you’re alright, and then on Friday we’ll be able to bring you home with us.” Nicholas seemed happy with that and relaxed between the two of them. They visited him every day until Friday. They took that day off and took Nicholas home  in the morning and stayed with him as he roamed the house. The weekend went by without too much trouble. The weeks leading up to the trial were a little rough. Nicholas would have panic attacks if he was left alone, so one of them would have to call off to stay home with him, and if that didn’t work he would come to the station with them. The trail was thankfully short but it was hard on Nicholas. Hearing that he was the cause of his parents death in Jacob’s eyes dug up things that the little android had kept buried, and it took months to get him to open up again.

It was two years later when he came to Gavin and Richard and asked to be put in the Growing Up program, he wanted to experience life to the fullest. He had said they were his family, and for the first time since he had deviated, Richard cried. They all had, but it was a sure sign that things were looking up. It would be a rough road ahead, agreeing to grow up wasn’t going to fix anything, but he wanted to be come a man that his mom and dad would have been proud of. He didn’t quite see Gavin and Ricard as parents, but they were his family and he loved them.

[fictionkinfessionsarchived]

hello party cat !! if you don't mind, could i request an eye truama cw ?? thank you so much ! you're doing a wonderful job and deserve all the pats

Oh dang, thank you anon! I accept all forms of pats, pets, and pots! I love sitting in pots a lot but people get upset since they’re for ‘cooking’ you know!

And we totally tag that! Specifically the tag is #eye trauma cw for blacklisting purposes! Thank you for reminding me, it slipped my mind!

I should wait a bit to full wake up form sunbeam naps! Those are super strong naps, you know! Wow I just checked and there's 70+ tags on that page!

Mod Party Cat!

I'll stick the additional, updated tags below this read more in case anyone doesn't want to go track down the #blog tags post! Keep in mind they're about injuries so you're not caught off guard!

Face traumaReferring to trauma caused to the general area of the face.

Eye traumaReferring to trauma caused specifically to the eye(s).

Mouth traumaReferring to the general trauma caused to the mouth, both outside or inside, including the tongue.

Dental traumaReferring to specific teeth related trauma

Hand traumaReferring to general trauma caused to the hand or hand like appendages, eg paws, tentacles, etc.

Palm traumaReferring to trauma caused to the palm area of the hand.

Bone Fractures cwReferring to bones breaking or being injured to the point of fracturing

Starvation cwReferring to lack of eating, voluntarily or involuntary. It may also be used in conjunction with the tag #eating disorder cw, depending on the kinfession's context.

[kdmerchant]

Here's a snippit from For Head, Heart and Health chapter 11.

I'm working on it slowly. August has been a stupid busy time and I am sick.

Thanks for anyone that's still reading it. Maybe I'll spend the time to edit it sometime. Hope you like it or it at least gives you feels.

CW: this chapter contains talk of sexual truama:

___________________

“Can you tell me about Thaniel?” Paradigm asked.

“He’s currently the fuel of my unending circular thinking.” Halsin sighed. “I really do understand that.” He glanced up for just a moment, a crinkle of pain in the corner of his eyes, before they became downcast, striving to hold back his own tears even though his voice managed an even tone. “He brought me out of my own circular thinking for my own sexual grievances.” Halsin had moved to her feet, which were popping in places she didn’t know carried tension until he rubbed it away.

Paradigm pulled her up foot from his grip and stared down at the elf who held so tightly to the innocence of the child he sought. He wasn’t looking up at her but was mumbling to himself, something to do with waltzing bee’s and water. His bulky form turned, and he sat where he had knelt before, Paradigm crawled off the cot, holding the blanket that concealed her form and sat across from him, her legs coiled into a pretzel almost knee to knee with him. She reached out to touch his leg, ever so gently.

The look she got back was ferocious. His lips were turned down in obvious anger, while his brow knit together to reveal a honeyed glow in his brown eyes. Paradigm tightened the light blanket that was wrapped around her.

“May I?” Paradigm asked, holding her arms out to indicate she would like to initiate a hug. He took a breath and could see the internal work across his face. His eyes softened as his jaw unclenched, and his head gave a gentle nod. Paradigm scootched into his lap and pressed herself into him, arms wrapping around where they could.

“He taught me how to see again, through the eyes of all the relationships we share, not just the harsh lessons. Lessons in simplicity and symbiosis. I would not forgive myself if he was lost, eternally.” Halsin said gruffly. Paradigm could feel the cool wetness of his tears trail down her arm and she hugged him tighter.

“He’s more than just a child. You will succeed in your endeavor.” Paradigm said, and he returned the hug. They rested in each other’s simple embrace for a minute before the large elf released her. Paradigm took him by the ears, rubbed them a little and kissed him on the forehead in the way she would her own kids.

[spookymultimedia]

Burning Pile

CW: brief mention of religious queer truama and discussion on theology

Brief one-shot of Mose and Dwight that I wanted to write

       Dwight and Mose stared at the Bible in the middle of the bonfire. Most of its pages had been shredded into ashes and the leather was charred black. It was burned beyond recognition. Dwight was 25 years old with a mullet that curled slightly at the back, be was shirtless with his self imposed top surgery scars laid out on his chest like lighting over a sky. His chin and neck were tipped in facial hair. Unlike Dwight, Mose, who was a few years older, had a tuft of hair growing out of his chin with a significant lack of neck hair. His head was clean shaven and wore a gray button up. Dwight had been staring at the book he threw into the fire. He hated the book. He hated how it has been misused against him. He hated how every elder in his family reminded him that he was english and therefore going to hell. Even the english believers of the book believed he was going to hell. Maybe he was. Satan sounded much kinder than the people who told him these things. He was drunk. Mose had drank beer too but he wasn't nearly as drunk as his younger cousin. He had been screaming and ranting to Mose and he could barely understand what Dwight was saying. He had mellowed down now. 

        "I just don't know what to think anymore. I don't think I can say that there is no god because I can't prove that. I can't prove there is one either. There's too many possibilities and no way to say what there is isn't. It's all different ways we cope with life and death really."

      He looked at Mose. He nodded without looking at him, he just stared as smoke flew into his face. He didn't move though. He just closed his eyes every now and then.

       "I believe in the supernatural. I believe people have souls. I honestly believe animals have souls too. I think animals should be killed with dignity and respect.  I think nature itself is a god in a way. I think any disrespect to the earth is a sin." 

   He glanced at Mose again. He didn't respond. He was in an odd trance with the fire, he assumed Mose was listening; even if he was being drowned out he would talk anyway. Mose was a good man to rant to. 

      "I like the idea of a God. I like the idea of many gods to pray to. I like to think the universe was a group effort. Even then I don't feel like I could believe it completely but I guess that's why they call it faith." 

        He stared at the fire, the Bible now looked like nothing more than a lump of ash. The burnt leather smelled god awful. 

       "What do you think?"

Mose was silent. After a couple minutes Dwight started to think he had nothing to share.

      "God is dead." He said flatly. He didn't elaborate. There was a long period of silence between them.

  "Alright."