#cw neglect

[pillowspace]

Thinking about how Charlotte Emily most likely regularly hung out with the Aftons.

William comes downstairs at 9 in the morning to see Charlie and Elizabeth with empty teacups and a teapot, and is just like, ah. Of course. Little girls love tea parties, but indulges them anyway like "what are you two up to?" Elizabeth immediately lights up. "Charlie said that we should play British People 'cause we're British!" William, now a bit more confused, "...ah. I see." Elizabeth, "oh won't you join us? Pretty please?" Charlie then pipes in that she had also asked Mike, but that he had very unfortunately said no, because "Liz plays too mean." Elizabeth, "I do not, you're just too scared to lose!" Michael, "I can't fucking lose at 'British People.'"

Charlie and Elizabeth do atrocious things to their dolls. Drama. Tragedy. They always clash on the endings though, as Charlie wants their dolls fo have a happy end while Elizabeth wants their dolls to have an even worse end

Michael doesn't know Charlie's staying over, and brings home his schoolmates one day. William Frowns TM like "I tried to tell you Henry was dropping off Charlotte today, but you were already halfway out the door." Michael later re-enters the room to find his schoolmates picking on Charlie and pulling at her hair. The closest Michael ever feels to peace is when he's with the Emilys, so he immediately spirals at the sight like, "oh god, if Uncle Henry finds out I brought people over who hurt his daughter, he might not bring her over anymore. What do I do then? What do I do if he stops liking me?" He quickly shoos off his friends, going "dude! She's a guest, leave her be" while Charlie recovers. Before he too can follow after them, Charlie asks Michael if he'll draw with her. He hesitates. The Emilys are the closest he ever gets to peace, so he agrees and sits down to draw. "What are you drawing, Char?" "Marionette!" "'S that the creepy thing that's always watching the guests come and go at Freddy's?" "He's not creepy, he's my friend. Dad made him for me :(" "ahh. You know, my father's been building something for Liz too." "You think that it'll protect her like Marionette protects me?" "Maybe."

Charlie notices how anxious CC always seems to be, and declares one day that she'll keep him safe. She makes him a drawing of them both holding hands, and gives it to him so that he may always look upon it and know that Charlie's rooting for him. He nearly bursts into tears at the kind gesture. The whole household tries to be nicer to each other whenever Charlie's around, but CC tells her about Michael's behaviour to him. Knowing how weak Michael is to her, Charlie gives Michael a look while he's grabbing cereal the next morning like "you should be nicer to your brother. He's just a little kid." Michael immediately pauses, then awkwardly closes the cupboard like "ummm. Okay." Not wanting to use Charlie as a means to make fun of CC, he just never brings the interaction up afterwards

The Emily and Afton families joining together are constantly filled with different forms of jealousy from the Aftons. William, he's jealous of Henry. Michael, he's jealous of Charlie's positive relationship with her father. CC, he's jealous of how Michael seems to like Charlie so much more than him. Elizabeth doesn't even notice her own jealousy, but deep down, Charlie's completely peaceful household... confuses her. She rationalizes the lack of favouritism or hostility as it only stemming from Charlie being an only child, rather than Henry's good parenting. Being so young as well as being the perfect golden child, Elizabeth doesn't know how to express doubt in her father. Clearly, it must be her siblings doing something wrong if Charlie and Uncle Henry are doing so well on their own!

After CC's death, the house is filled with an unbreakable tension. It's grief. It's guilt. Michael and his schoolmates completely cut ties after what happened. And as always, the Emilys feel so separate from the tension of his own home. Michael starts talking to Charlie more frequently, more often at Henry's house rather than his own. He tries not to, or at least usually tries to hide first, but he accidentally has a complete breakdown in the living room one time. Charlie hums a soothing lullaby to him until Henry eventually comes back, notices the state Michael's in, and takes over calming him down while sending Charlie off to do some other seemingly helpful task. After Elizabeth's death, Michael only really has the Emilys left. Charlie stops just being his source of peace, and becomes his best friend. His only friend. Then after Charlie's death...

It's rather lonely all of a sudden.

Later, years later, when Michael's flesh is rotting on his bones and everything is just about to finally be done with, he sits down on the edge of a cheap creaky stage he bought, and lightly knocks his knuckles against Lefty's calf. "Charlie? Can you hear me alright? It's Michael ... I'm sorry. I know I never acted like it, but... for what it's worth... you were my best friend back then. ...Whatever's beyond this, would you like to be friends again there too?"

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Best Friend

Tw: childhood abuse, divorced parents, bullying, violence, angstt, parental neglect

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

my masterlist

hi guys after a long hiatus i come back , coping mechanism time

i wrote this like from 11pm to 3am in a frenzy so dont exepct much , ridden wih typos, contradiction,grandma misrake and idk if the reader here is fully gender neutral or i accidentally sprinkled some afab in there

thersras like a part 2 to this so eyah stayetuned

enjoys

He was there from the very beginning, that quiet boy from elementary that you shared your sandwich with when no one bats an eye at him.

He was quiet, you were considered uninteresting. Both of you are somewhat outcasts and the other children held no interest towards you and him. Perfect match for each other, instant best buddies, bonded by mutual loneliness.

Well, maybe, not instant. He was weary and so were you, it took a while before you gained his trust. He made sure you didn't stuff nasty, gritty bugs in that sandwich like how all the other kids would do. You made sure he didn't accept it just to throw it in your face.

Once it was established that you didn't add an extra ingredient and he isn't going to play bread frisbee, the door to a long and strong friendship was established. He doesn't have much to say, but he's never short on kind gestures when it comes to you. Are your bags heavy? Let him carry them, he's a strong boy; he drinks his milk and gets his healthy amount of sleep. You forgot to do your 5th grade long division homework? He is going to swap his completed homework sheets with your empty ones, he's okay with being scolded. He has some stupidly thick skin from what goes on at home.

Your yoyo is really cool, you said. You own that yoyo now. No, really, it's okay. He doesn't really need it and it made you happy when you had it in your small hands. Yes, it took him months of begging his busy, overworked, broken, divorced, struggling, knee-deep in debt dad and a couple of missed lunches to get that shiny yoyo, but he loves seeing your surprised expression and dazzling smile.

Oops, you spilled your drink all over another classmate's book, or you broke a window, or you dented a teacher's car. It doesn't matter how many people witness it, it doesn't matter what you say, he's responsible and will gracefully accept all repercussions and punishments even if that means receiving a couple more ugly bruises on his body that night.

Who doesn't like candy? He sure loves them. That's why, he uses up all his already scarce pocket money to buy you some. You protest, he's confused, don't you like candy? Yes, he knows he won't be eating a lot these few weeks because he can't afford it, but don't you like candy?

Are your hands dirty from eating all that chocolate? Here, use his white shirt as a napkin. No, really, it's okay! He's your friend, he would do anything for you... are your shoes muddy too?

Happy birthday! It's a very special day for you and him too, that's why, he saved up enough to buy you a tasty cake and a pair of beautiful promise rings made up of gold! Isn't that cool? Don't worry about how he got the money and please ignore the giant, bloodied cotton gauze on his head, please ignore his black eye, please ignore the strange burn marks on his limbs. His extra injuries are due to... him falling off a bike. You know that's not true. That's not how he got them. He is going to be really sad if you don't accept his gifts, better just shut up, smile, say thank you, kiss the boo-boos away, stuff your face with delicious cake and wear the damn ring.

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night, goodbye, I love you and all the other greetings are something you hear everyday from him. Hm, the teachers are complaining that he isn't that polite to them or to the other children, all they get are silent blank stares at best, a scowl and a spitting hiss at worst.

Halloween's here, you're dressed up as a generic bedsheet ghost because its the cheapest to do. While he's dressed up as a horror movie survivor. Wow, the cuts, tattered clothes, blood, abuse marks and limping walks really sold the costume. But you and him both know very well that these aren't done using makeup or prosthetics.

You and him went on trick and treating quietly.

Aww, you both are so adorable. Candies for days. Your pumpkin buckets filled up quick, that's because your friend keeps piling his candy into yours.

Aren't chocolate bars his favorite? Yes, of course. They're so expensive, delicious and very unafforable. But why does he keep giving them to you and leaving none for himself? Because they're everyone's favorite, including yours, duh!

Such a young gentleman, he is the type to lay his coat over a puddle of water for you to cross over it.

Middle school is where children usually begin to explore the concept of romance. Maybe you saw him as a brother, maybe you weren't attracted to him at the time, maybe you wanted to put his devotion for you to the test. Whatever the reason was, you consistently friendzone him whenever he tried to court you.

But it's okay, he is willing to wait. He is willing to have his eyes sting with tears, heart broken over and over again. He is willing to grit his teeth and clench his fists while forcing a smile, watching you experiment with the idea of having a boyfriend or girlfriend with other people. He is willing to be the third wheel to every single one of your dates with other kids. Your friend is always going to be there for you no matter what, he is your unyielding safety net, he is your second choice, he is always the best alternative or default when the puppy love didn't work out. And, he found solace in that. Others come and go, he is the fucking constant.

Then, he is going to try his luck. He will do it over and over again. You're going to accept it one day.

Your friend loves flowers. He speaks the language and gives you bouquets of red roses and pink Camellias. You usually chuck it in a vase filled with water and let it wilt, they're going to be replaced anyways.

He found that the food in the cafeteria can be awful, with goopy expired milk, to half frozen pizzas, they're bound to cause some poor kid to puke their guts out later in the day. He is making sure you're not that kid, so, he dedicated what precious free time he had to hone his cooking skills. He is a busy boy, working god knows how many jobs a 12 year old can work in a day, just to fund this essential skill of his.

Middle schoolers can be so cruel, your friend may not look the most feminine, but it's the actions he does out of love that makes the children pick on him for being different. Ew! He likes flowers and cooking! Gross! Evil! Unnatural! Independent! So not Alpha!

It starts off rocky at first, bullies will sabotage him whenever they can, kick him while he's down. Ruin his stocks, call him names and vandalize his belongings, but he gets the last laugh when he makes fucking bank by selling warm, hearty, tasty meals. They're a big hit among the staff who have no time to cook for themselves and have half a brain to know eating from the cafeteria is a bad idea.

Of course, his beloved sweetheart gets to eat for free. And has the privilege to go for seconds, thirds, fourths, however much your stomach desires. Yours are always personalized to fit your palate and presented in the most appetizing way.

Soon, other children began buying his meals too. As it turns out, they fucking slap.

He began expanding, selling resold candies at a ridiculously marked up prices, but the way he marketed and packaged them, gave an illusion that he's selling a premium product. They sold out like hotcakes, while you ate wrapper after wrapper without needing to pay a single cent.

Hey, he really has a knack for business! He is raking in profits, bringing you out to eat, spoiling you with riches a self made, young entrepreneur would have, excelling in Business studies, Accounting, Mathematics and Psychology.

He began testing the limits of his trading empire, he began dabbling in service based business such as delivery, doing homework for a price, obtaining blackmail material... that is how he knew your homeroom teacher had an extramarital affair with the principal. Hmm... the principal seems to kiss his ass a lot and you get a bunch of privileges. You wonder why that happened.

His reputation grew as his shrewdness grew. Your friend was too intimidating to be bullied, as one of his business ventures includes hiring others to do some dirty work for him. You don't know the full extent of his giant conglomerate enterprise, and you don't want to know.

You remember seeing a female teacher handing him a wad of cash, her hair tousled, her clothes were messy, her lipstick smeared and weird stains were all over her body. For sure, she didn't just find it laying around in the boys' bathroom... and, there were a lot more boys requesting a bathroom break that day.

Your friend bought you the latest smartphone model on the same day too. You were disturbed with what you saw and the implications, so you asked if she even got anything out of working under him and... if she even agreed to work as... whatever she was. He just smiled, cup your cheek and told you to never, ever, ever, cheat in a relationship. Especially not with him.

He then followed up with his probably hundredth love confession for you. Which you promptly friendzone him again. Your friend would simply sigh and change the subject. Do you like your phone? He asked as you began unboxing it, the loud chatter from the mall's food court drowned the voice of doubt in your head.

His wallet is growing wider, he is growing taller, posture disciplined, voice deeper and he lost the majority of his baby fat. Giving him a sharper, meaner, leaner look, his physique is nothing to scoff at either. All those pastry batter mixing, soup stirring, skull bashing hustling and bustling sculpted those perfect abs and ass. His hair now has a healthy sheen to it since he can afford better things, his skin had no flaw and the protruding ribs on his chest is now covered up with muscular pecs.

Being pretty does have its' privileges, he observed a sale boost in his balance sheets.

Time waits for no man. Before you know it, the both of you are in Graduation togas. Smiling for the camera, you gave your friend bunny ears.

Your friend started worthless in everyone's eyes, something to poke fun at, a punching bag, forgettable and nothing serious. He transformed into this feared, revered, worshipped yet hated entity. Your friend no doubt made as many enemies as allies, that's just how it is in the business industry. Cold blooded, ruthless and absolutely bizarre to you.

He has obviously put some of the staff and students in horrible situations for his benefit and sometimes for your entertainment. They seem to genuinely see him as some sort of god, someone to cleanse them from all their sins. They... loved him. What a manipulative motherfucker.

As for you... your situation is pretty strange too. You are clearly the only person he cared about, the only person he truly ever loved and cherish. No one seem to conjure up the idea to use you against him. You seem... invisible, for the most part. And you are so grateful for that.

At least, that's what your friend wants you to think. You have no idea how many strings he has to pull to keep you safe and oblivious and innocent. You have no idea how much he had to spend to keep you pure and untainted. But, yeah. Keep believing its' due to some sort of cosmic karma system where you didn't incur any karmic debt.

It was the first time seeing his parents at this graduation ceremony, he never liked having you over at his house. They looked like how you imagined them; miserable, horrible, unhealthy and volatile. They really should not be seated next to each other, his parents looked like they're about to strangle each other and your friend at a moments' notice.

His father was smoking, plumes of grey wafted up in the open air. Ashes crumbled and dropped down to his lap. His necktie was undone and his office shirt was disheveled, much like his belt and scuffed shoes. It was a wonder how he's not escorted out of the venue yet.

His mother... she aged horribly. She looks irritated yet distant, she doesn't want to be here. Or does she not want to be with her ex husband? Maybe if they were separated by an opaque wall, the mood would be much more lifted. His mom wasn't mentioned a lot during conversations, you knew close to nothing except the fact that she gets him on the weekends.

Perhaps his mother is simply neglectful and not active, he did mention that its easier to prepare his sellable inventory during the weekends.

You're nervous to meet them, they're really unfriendly and they don't seem to care that much about their son's accomplishments.

Your friend gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. As if to soothe you from the sight of his less than ideal parents.

To you surprise, he just shot them an indifferent look before leading you away. Their relationships must be unsalvageable.

The event comes to an end, your friend mingled with everyone who, the majority, had clenched fists behind their back. He then went to socialize with your parents, he knew them well and they also knew them well. Their opinions on him are lovely.

He continued his endeavors, trying out many different ventures. It was extremely dizzying with the sheer amount of businesses he had. Your friend moved out of his parents' house(s) and struggled with finding a place for a while. So he stayed over at your parents' house with you for the time being. You get to wake up to the smell of deliciousness every morning, the plants would be watered, furniture dusted, home sparkling clean. Though, he was rarely around.

Eventually, he found his footing and lived in his own place. It's a little cramped and it could qualify as a weapon of psychological warfare, but that was all he could afford at the time.

He fought tooth and nail to obtain a massive bank loan for his main business plan, he was stressing over opening his first restaurant. The logistics of it all, the raw materials, the hired help, the equipment, the advertising-- the pressure of it all was enough to break the average person, but not him. Oh, he thrived on this. He was calculating, he knew the costs, the risks and he saved up enough for a rainy day.

It took him many months, many trips to the bank, many meetings, many phone calls, emails, uncountable hours working 3 jobs a day, an eternity in the kitchen, in the sweltering heat of lit stoves heating up pots and pans, many times where he would lose his voice from aggressive marketing, persuasion, severe sleep deprivation, starvation, networking, tears, blood and sweat. There were more times than you can count with your hands that he was almost driven to insanity if it wasn't for you.

The thought of you alone was more than enough to ground him and keep his eyes on the prize, he is going to make so much money that, you and he wouldn't ever have to work ever again. You both would live happily ever after as a married couple, comfortable and never needing to worry if he could afford the next meal or keep the lights on.

That's nice. You wouldn't need to know what he went through, he doesn't want you to go through a life of hardship like how he did. You wouldn't ever need to work a day in your life.

Your friend rubbed his aching, calloused hands, ridden with cuts and scars. The golden promise ring sits around his finger, it wasn't his to begin with, he stole them from his parents when you both were kids. He found solitude knowing that your hands will never be like his, your back will not ache from overexertion, your muscles will be relaxed and your mind will be quiet, at peace. But only if he kept going. Only if he does not give up.

Everything he does, he does it for you. He thought to himself, as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes staring at the screen of his phone. It's showing that 5 more customers placed an order for his famous party platter through a popular social media app. Your friend sighed as he tucks his phone away before opening the door to his mini fridge containing all the ingredients needed for the orders. It's 11pm, he has to be at one of his workplaces at 6am tomorrow.

The day finally came where he would open the doors to his very own restaurant. There was a crowd waiting in front of the shiny, polished glass doors.

His team of service crews, cooks and baristas anxiously watched on as your friend glanced at his old, marred and cracked wristwatch. His hand was tightly gripping on the door handles as he watched the minute hand twitched. His eyes and mouth were dry, probably due to the dehydration he endured for a while now.

As soon as his accessory shows that it's time for the grand opening, he opened the floodgates.

Customers come rushing in like a torrent of water in a river. Some new, some old, some here to do their jobs as a journalist, some are his other associates, some are his estranged relatives, some are his rivals. It was an assortment of people, a mixed bag.

The Chefs are cooking up a storm in the kitchen, the wait staff are serving customers left and right, bringing them to their tables. Baristas are whipping up as much drinks as they can, as perfectly as they can. Not a single foam bubble out of place, or else all those training would have gone to waste.

It was loud, busy and fiery. Chaos yet it was controlled, Disorder but it was ordered.

Your friend was leading the flow, the rhythm. The pulse of the restaurant depended on him. He made sure everything is in line, satisfaction at an all time high and disappointment non existent. He barked commands, firm and domineering, he controls the scene with an iron hand.

Waitstaff were trained to strike up friendly conversations with customers whose orders will take a longer time, to give the illusion of speed. Cheery faces, toothy smiles, giggles and laughter filled the establishment's air, alluring aroma of cooked goods filled everyone's nostrils, making many stomachs growl. It was colourful, it was tumultuously harmonic, expression of glee would made its way to the patrons' face when their dishes gets served. All the meals go beyond their expectations, in terms of smell, texture, taste and plating.

Your friend made sure that the cooling system was working perfectly, as he works in a kitchen, the easiest way to get snappy and grumpy is to be hungry in an oven. Calming music that's faintly playing in the background also helps, but its' mostly for him and the other staff. Everyone else is too occupied with their own matters to notice.

Today should be a day of accomplishment, happiness and gratitude. Why shouldn't it be? Revenue is projected to be high, profits are guaranteed and expected to go through the roof. Logically, this restaurant will be sustainable for many decades to come.

But your friend... he is getting antsy, upset, distressed, unhappy. His staff is noticing that he isn't all there, he's getting crabbier by the second. They were baffled, everything is going well, he is handling it wonderfully and the pressure is actually slightly dying down.

Where are you? He had scanned the dining area many many times now. No sign of you... but your parents were there. That somewhat calmed him down a bit, if they're there, you should be there too... right? You're probably at the salad counter or the bathroom. He anxiously massaged his hands, where are you?

He trusts his staff to handle everything on their own. He decided to take big strides towards your parents. Your friend greeted them with a warm smile, an animated Hello. Your parents mirrored him and returned the affability.

He was desperate to see you again... oh god, how long has it been since he last saw you? Hear your voice? It must have been months. As this realization dawned on him, he felt the coldest chill run down his spine.

Did he... unintentionally neglected you in the process of building the perfect life? No, that can't be. He sent you texts everyday.

He clenched his jaw and pushed his gnawing thought away momentarily. He made small talk with your parents. It was fine until he abruptly cut them off and got to the point; Where are you?

Your parents glanced at each other and a look of discomfort washed over them. Your friend was using the table to support his weight as he leaned forward. His knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the furniture too tightly.

They're studying abroad. They said. Your friend froze in place and widened his eyes.

What? Why didn't you tell him? Why didn't he know? Why--

He hastily whipped his phone out and frantically tapped on his cracked screen.

He trembled as he realized you never received his texts, let alone read it.

Your parents explained to him that you changed phone numbers two years ago when you left to continue your studies abroad.

Two years...? Its been two fucking years?!

Your friend began hyperventilating, his face was flushed and he was gagging and gasping. No, no, no this can't be. He is nothing like his parents! You meant everything to him, he had never intend to ignore you, he had never meant to neglect you! Your friend is losing grip on himself, he is shaking like a leaf. No one paid any attention to him, as he is simply insignificant at the moment.

Please... I-I need to call them, please let me call them! He was choking on his tears that were streaming down his face, dripping onto the pristine floors below.

Your father handed him his phone, your new number already dialed.

They're probably having an exam today. Your father tried to warn your friend, but he didn't hear a word. All he could think was you.

Your friend snatched it out from his hand and made a dash past all the staff, customers, chefs...

Until he reached the back door, upon which, he exited through it.

He sobbed, pressing the device against his ear, listening to it beep indefinitely.

The call eventually dropped because it wasn't picked up. His face was scrunched and his sniffles were bouncing off the walls and green dumpster nearby.

He tried again. The call dropped. He tried again. The call dropped.

He tried again,

Your friend crouched down to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. His cries unheard by anyone, everyone else is in the restaurant. He is the only one at the back.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry. He mumbled repeatedly to himself.

He tried again.

I'm so sorry. He sobbed much harder this time, he cradled his face in his hand.

The call dropped.

Please forgive me. He squeezed his arm, his fingernails digging into his flesh.

He tried again.

You're always my number one. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have neglected you. He drew blood from piercing his skin with his nails.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry, I was only trying to build a better life for us. He took much shallower breaths.

He tried again

I would give up everything just to hear from you again, it means nothing to me if you're not here... with me. Please, I'm sorry. He was growing despondent, desolate. He was clutching his head, a ball of quivering mess.

The call dropped.

I love you. He whispered as he broke down completely. Angry at himself, angry at the world, angry at everything. Life isn't fair. He has done everything he needed to do and yet he the only reward he ever wanted isn't granted; you. He ruined everything, all of it, all his hard work, all of it was worthless. He felt worthless. The guilt and remorse and anguish of being a neglectful friend and partner was crushing him to death.

He wasn't there at the very end.

[nmolesofadrenaline]

[crumbleclub]

Conflicting dynamics between Michael and his siblings are so intriguing. I feel like a lot of people slant strongly one way or the other– he's either protrayed as a good brother who's been thrust into a parental role and does everything for his siblings, or as a complete monster of a kid who spends all of his spare time tormenting his little brother– but it's more interesting to me when it's both.

The Michael who cruelly locks his brother in a room surrounded by the things he fears most and the Michael who tries to redirect his father's abuse away from Evan and towards himself are the same person.

The Michael who did his sister's hair every morning is the same Michael who tore apart her toys when he was angry with her, and both parts of him were there when he found himself crying in her room at the realization she was never coming home.

On top of that, they probably had a lot of very normal moments, too. They played outside together in the summer and tried to pawn their chores off on each other. There was one song they all liked when it came on the radio, and they made fun of the adults they knew when nobody else was around. None of them knew how to talk about their feelings, but, when one of them had been having a really rough time, they'd find that the breakfast Mikey made the next morning was their favorite, or Evan's favorite show had been put on even when Elizabeth had the remote, or an anonymous party had left a really cool rock on Michael's bedside table.

It must have been strange from the younger kids' perspectives, especially Evan's. Your brother keeps making you cry on purpose, and he's so, so mean, for no reason at all, but you know the bruise under his eye had been meant for you.

[pluralcultureis]

Plural culture is:

My ex literally been through CSOCSA, lives in poverty, neglected, has been through physical abuse... Yet they don't have DID and I do, and I've only been through emotional neglect (mainly gaslighting) and bullying from 1-5th grade.

It feels pathetic we also have a subsystem, it SHOULDNT been that traumatic.

(fyi its my bday <3 🎂)

Trauma is so specific honestly. It affects everyone differently

Some soldiers come home from war completely unphased, and others never recover mentally

Everyone in our friend group is traumatized in someway, and we're actually a bit surprised some of them aren't also systems

But trauma presents and affects everyone differently, no trauma is truly "lesser"

Your reaction to it is not pathetic

Also happy birthday hope it went well <3

[teruel-a-witch]

thinking about how danny spent very little time with steve before he (correctly) deduced that he suffered a lot of parental neglect ('you weren't hugged as a child, were you?'). of course, steve's knee-jerk response is to deny that because people who had an abnormal childhood don't realise it wasn't the norm because it's the only life they knew, only when they tell a 'funny' story that is met with a horrified look of someone who grew up in a well-adjusted family that they are confronted with the uncomfortable truth: that the perfect 'childhood' they lost after the trauma wasn't so perfect after all.

the fact that steve was only angry because of abandonment and not the cold bootcamp way he was raised shows he didn't know any better. even when he had a mother she wasn't the kissing-a-skinned-knee-better kind. it would still take years of therapy and gentle coaxing from danny for him to unpack all of that.

i can imagine many a time steve probably shared what he thought was an amusing 'anecdote' from his childhood only for danny to go all compassionate 'aw, babe' on him.

'what's the story behind this scar?'

'oh, it's kind of a funny one, i was playing outside by myself and heard pathetic whining nearby. turned out a stray dog fell into a construction pit. poor gal couldn't get out on her own so i climbed down to get her out, except my hand landed on a piece of rebar and... well. it was a kind of deep cut, but clean, i couldn't stitch it up by myself yet because i was seven so i put some antiseptic on it and waited for my mom to come home from work. it hurt a lot but i didn't cry because my mom always said 'big boys don't cry'. when she saw what happened she yelled at me and since it wasn't infected she said there's no need to go to the doctor, sure it would scar without stitching but the scar would remind me to be less clumsy and not to jump into pits willy-nilly. anyway, isn't it funny how clumsy i was when i was 7. why are you looking at me like that?'

it's honestly a wonder steve ended up with such a soft and big heart despite everything, because neglect could have made him cold, selfish, hard, insensitive to the feelings of others because no one cared about his.

instead, steve loves 'fixing broken toys' (literally and figuratively, ex. him gently gluing back the small cat figurine that danny broke) this 'child forgot lessons of love untaught' is surprisingly good at comforting people and being gentle.

there's a reason his big soft heart is what danny loves most about him. because he understands, given his background, how easily steve could have been different, could have perpetuated the cycle instead of breaking it.

truly, he has so much love to give. because no one wanted it from him, he never had anyone to give it to.

he was taught to shove all those soft feelings deep because they are only an obstacle in being a perfect soldier.

and then there's danny who says 'i'll take it, give it all to me, i want it, it doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong, that's why I love you, babe', and steve can finally pour all that love he's had pent up into someone, show his gooey centre without fear of being stabbed into it.

it is any wonder he decides he is gonna love danny till his dying day. tragically, since no one's taught him what love looks like he never realises danny loves him in return.

[honeyed-latte]

Something that is so overlooked in Like Minds (2006) is the irrefutable fact that Nigel was being sexually abused by his mother and, likely, physically abused by his father.

So here's my comprehensive breakdown of that. Let's start at the beginning.

(Apologies for the pisspoor quality, I sniped these off the internet.)

It's stated multiple times throughout the movie that Nigel had "problems at home" and they centered around in-fighting. Not only is that widely known, but even the Headmaster was made aware that Nigels father wanted him out of the house specifically.

Despite Nigels grades being the highest in the country, being a virtually perfectly behaved teenage boy, and his dedication to a hobby that (while unsettling) is incredibly promising as both a career and a special interest- his father still found issue with something and felt the need to pull him from day school into a dormitory setting.

When showing Alex his crawlspace clubhouse, Alex knocks over a crate of bottles and wakes Nigels father. As any totally sane person would, he arms himself and scopes his property for the source of the noise before blaming the neighbors dog and returning to bed.

Nigel is not only able to tell where the guns are kept, but the exact sound of the footsteps approaching the cabinet.

He says "He's got the gun." In this...jovial, lackadaisical way. As if this is normal, expected, as if he's done this a thousand times. He's less the not worried, he's perfectly comfortable with the fact that his father is armed.

The first time we're introduced to Helen and John Colbie is during the Beckett play.

Helen greets Alex warmly, saying that Nigel has told her a lot about him. John reacts stiffly and only grows moreso as the scene plays out. It's clear that he didn't hear anything about this other boy, and finds his wifes involvement grating. His head turning to stare at her, and his sudden silence.

As Alex leaves, Helen expresses her relief that Nigel has a friend and wraps her arm around his lower back, rubbing there hard enough to move Nigels body- this seems to catch Johns eye as well.

Helen leaves the room first, floating above the tense atmosphere between John and Nigel, who seem to glare at eachother over her head. One in discomfort and the other in some smug righteousness.

The entire scene John is uncomfortable. He doesn't know this boy apparently who is Nigels bestfriend, he doesn't like how his wife touches (or jostles) his son, and he stubbornly refuses to leave the room until Nigel does.

I could be overthinking it but as soon as we see the dynamic between the Colbie's it feels painfully clear that there is a long-boiling tension. To me, it seems like Helen and Nigel are close and this upsets John, and since we already know that there was "problems" at home, we could safely assume it's to do with Johns violent tendencies.

Well, that is until the next time we see them.

Alex arrives late one night to the Colbie home at request of Nigel, only to find a car barely pulled into the carpark, it's even still running, and enough yelling to wake the dead.

On inspection, he finds Helen and Nigel the subject of Johns ire. John who once again has a gun and is demanding the explanation for why his son and wife are in bed together.

Not seen in the clip (and easily missed) is the radio from the car playing a sermon, the clergyman is talking of a wife bearing a son.

Despite being fully clothed, atleast as we see above the blankets, it's damning enough. Added to the racey photographs John was given of his wife.

It's evident that John was away, he even confirms that. There was fighting and he believed it would be best if they were all separated for a time. Clearly, he wasn't expecting to find these photos or come home to his son and wife in bed together.

Helen defends herself, at first.

She claims his accusations are disgusting and that she's appalled by the implications being thrown at her.

Even with this reaction, Nigel sits silent and grimacing at her side.

In certain shots you can see Nigel is doing something under the blankets. People think he's rubbing his legs to self-soothe, some people think he was wringing his hands for a similar purpose, others crassly assumed he was touching himself or pulling up his pants. There is no confirmation to any of these theories, as the action is fully out of view and Alex never extrapolates.

Regardless, as he sits in silence and lets his mother weather the storm of accusatory insults, her defense crumbles fast and soon she turns to Nigel.

Begging for explanation on the photos or for him to defend her, we never find out.

We all know how that song and dance goes.

John shoots Helen in a fit of rage when Nigel refuses to speak to either of them. Flinching and shaking beside his mother. Alex shoots John in a struggle for the gun, and we see Nigel slough off the image of a victim. Though not entirely. He looks down his nose at his parents but still shakes and greets Alex with a cracking voice.

This was not fun, this was not funny, this was revenge and fear. Nigel came out on top by luck alone.

Now, his mother dead, Nigel is free to have his Maraclea as Alex has Susan. This is not conditional to the Templar loving the woman, but the woman loving the Templar. This distinction was made by Nigel himself when he urged Alex to take Susan. In love, her only love.

Nigel's abuse, sexual or otherwise, was very obvious in retrospect. They did extremely well in creating this oppressive, frightening atmosphere in the Colbie house without once being fetishistic of the abuse or voyeuristic in it's exploration.

Nigel suffered and was traumatized, Alex never focuses on this and so it's easy to overlook, but when you watch it's as clear as day.

[psi-spectacular]

Since I saw @kibasniper111 do this for the campers, I wanna do some headcanons I have for the interns! Also they get sadder as you go down, be warned.

Raz

Trans kid who's fully accepted by his parents. Sorry I just really can't see the aquatos being transphobic and genuinely don't think transphobia is super common in the psychonauts universe? He's unlabeled at the moment and uses he/him pronouns.

Nona mixing up Raz's name with his brothers is because her brain had to connect Raz now having a boy name and connecting that to the other brothers so shes just a lil confused but shes got the spirit

He has (currently) undiagnosed autism, mostly because 1. there is no way the aquato family is able to afford a psychologist but 2. Augustus is also autistic and they have similar mannerisms, sensory issues, and stims so most of the family doesnt suspect that Raz is neurodivergent, they just think he takes after his father.

His helmet and googles are very much comfort items, but they also help with sensory issues. While they block out noise and reduce color in the area around him if needed, his helmet also stops him from constantly hearing the thoughts of others, which can easily overwhelm him.

He's mostly able to speak to smaller animals, mainly rodents like mice, rats, and squirrels, since they were the ones that were most common at different areas he would travel too.

He fell into water and almost drowned when he was little and that was the biggest thing that spurred the "hand of galocchio" thing.

Raz spent a lot of time in libraries and bookstores in the many towns he's traveled to in between practice and shows, and that was the way he discovered both his love for psychology and true psychic tales.

Raz is sensory seeking and douses everything he eats in hot sauce and spices. He'll try pretty much anything as long as its free and remotely edible. This extends to touch, he likes rubbing his hands on textured surfaces, especially velvet and fur.

He rubs his gloves on his face, bites, and scratches at them when he's stressed, so they're worn down where he's done it.

He has a plush toy Nona made him when he was a baby that used to be a rabbit but it's been repeatedly bitten, crushed, splattered in mud, and fixed so many times that it barely looks like a specific thing anymore, But he refuses to part with it no matter what.

His relationship with the junior agents goes from "eugh its weird having a kid here, we can't swear anymore." to "hello, this is our emotional support 10 year old, his name is shitfuck, we feed him moss, he's the golden retriver that keeps the cheetahs in our hearts from going insane, we constantly make fun of him and if you do anything to hurt his feelings no one will find your body."

Dona taught him how to forage and cook when he was little.

He enjoys dressing up and acting out roles whenever he can, and is very quick on his feet with his roles. He gets into LARPing later in life.

Raz doesn't have a specific specialty, so he's a bit of a jack of all trades when it comes to powers.

Morris

Another trans dude, Wowza. He's been out for a shorter time than Raz, but he's pretty comfortable with where he is right now. He's also bi! Woo.

He's peruvian, and was orphaned at a very young age before being adopted at around age 5 by his moms. He's currently 16.

He was one of Milla's orphans, but he was very young when the fire happened and he doesn't remember what happened or Milla, but his back did get injured in the fire and never fully healed, and that's why he's in the wheelchair.

His moms are rockabillies who own a motorcycle repair shop in the outskirts of Trujillo, They're big into 50's american culture and almost always have the radio on to whatever rock station is playing at the time, which helped inspire his love of radio and older fashion style. The albums he plays on KLOB are the only ones they let him bring because they were copies of records they already had.

He has a regular wheelchair with, you know, wheels, but when he fully learned levitation he found it easier to move around with a chair on a lev ball, especially on rougher terrain, so thats what he usually uses.

Despite his amount of Rizz he has no clue that Adam has a crush on him (not totally his fault, Adam's attempts of flirting are stuttery at best). He's just. Slightly oblivious to the feelings of others.

He acts like he doesnt care what people think. He very much does, and has some very overcompetative tendancies.

He and Gisu met in the motherlobe and have been part of the intern program for the longest, spending three years doing dumb shit in the woods while brushing off their intern duties or whatever they are.

He immediately took Queepie under his wing and they end up becoming really good friends, even if he isn't the greatest DJ. Cause he's, yknow, like 8.

Gisu

She/Her Intersex transmasc bisexual. Binds.

She's an Iranian immigrant who lives in a small town in the midwest, Same town as Lizzie and Norma. They're families know each other and they're childhood friends.

AuDHD and NPD.

She's an only child and lives with her mother and grandparents. She's slightly spoiled and they pretty much let her do whatever she wants, as long as she doesn't get arrested.

She's autistic and has a special interest in paleontology and robotics. She was part of her school's robotics team before joining the psychonauts.

She's very much a romantic, but tends to leap into crushes quickly and gets her heart broken.

Speaking of, she and Norma are QPPs.

Morris and her are besties and each others hypeman.

She has a tendency to work on her projects late into the night to the point of not noticing that its three in the morning by the time she finishes something.

She's easily able to focus on something that interests her, but if she doesn't think its something she would like to do, she procrastinates and avoids it like the plague. She gets easily distracted when she finally does get started.

Has a fursona. Its an otter.

BIG Boy band fan. All paul but also n-street, synced up boys, and whatever she can get her hands on. She doesn't care if its considered "trashy", it sounds good to her ears!

Also daft punk.

She loves Dion for his lack of swag and dumb barry b benson ass expressions

She was raised muslim and is personally agnostic but Sam convinced her Jesus and Moses were psychic and she constantly pisses Norma (catholic) off by bringing it up.

She's smart and gets good grades but doesn't have much respect for authority. She has A's and B's despite skipping most of her classes.

Adam

Transfem gay, but currently unaware of his gender, mostly from repression and not feeling the need to go too far inward. (Dont all guys wish they could wake up in the body of a girl and have no one question it and call him a she?) She/He, 16 years old.

She's from a rich, very influential family in britan known for having a lot of successful and gifted members. There's a lot of push for all the kids to do something "big" with their lives, and many begin to achieve that at very young, most having scholarships and awards at young ages.

And then there's Adam. Her biggest achievements are being

Truman's intern and that time she reached the quarterfinals of the county debate tournament. She's surrounded by ivy bound prodigies and musical geniuses and she's just… some history buff. She fades into the background noise, and feels like she's failing her family despite his best efforts.

Not fully conscious of the amount of wealth his family has. What do you mean your family doesn't send you 80 dollar tea overseas every month?

On a lighter note, He's taken it upon himself to become a bit of a "big brother" to Raz because he has a sibling around his age and he reminds her of them. She's trying to teach him how to play tetris. • As mentioned before, he has a crush on Morris but is terrible at flirting. He's one of Morris' few listeners on KLOB, but mostly does it because he enjoys hearing his voice.

She and Lizzie are absolutely TOIGHT. Lizzie immediately pinned her as a dweeb first time they met and she was right. They became a lot friendlier over time and were pen pals when Adam went back home after their first year.

Adam's eyes are all funky because he's got extra strong aura reading abilities, but the downside is that he basically goes blind for a while sometimes and has to orient around the world by seeing others auras and how they reflect off and affect objects.

Had a cringey katana-and-fedora phase when she was like 13. He tries to repress the memory. Her friends won't let her live it down because they have photo evidence.

Telekinesis specialist

Sam

CW For parental neglect, bullying, and parentification. Hoo boy lotta thoughts here.

Genderfluid Xenogendered Lesbian but not fully out to people who aren't the other junior agents. 14 and uses any pronouns but mainly she/her publicly.

Her family life is... strained. She lives in a pretty small town in the middle of nowhere, southeast america. Her family was normal when she still felt like a kid, but after Dogen acidentally blew up a bullies head, it became a frantic rush of lawyers, policemen, and hospital visits.

Since her parents were frequently away trying to figure out ways to mitigate Dogens abilities and find ways to settle the lawsuit they got, Sam would spend many hours alone. She quickly had to figure out how to cook and gather food outside to sustain herself because they would sometimes be in too much of a rush to prepare anything or be gone for longer than expected.

As things started to calm down, her parents would leave her alone with Dogen while they went off doing whatever else, and when they came back they would be too tired or too stressed to help her with anything.

She spent most of her days in the companionship of animals, almost always got up whenever Dogen was hungry or sick or had a nightmare, just to feed him and make sure he was okay.

Her parents basically treated her like a third adult when she was like 10, venting to her and letting her do most of the chores in the house when they were away, and they never really left her with a babysitter because she's "so mature for her age".

She has a strong fear of developing it herself, so she represses her anger. When someone is being mean to her and she starts focusing more on not blowing up than whats happening so she gets an unfocused look which leads to more teasing.

She eventually decided to just play into the "stupid weird girl" role, hoping being the butt of a joke in a friend group and making people laugh would help ease up her anger if she just laughs it off as her being dumb. (This ended up leaking into her and Norma's relationship and was part of the reason why they broke up.)

She did actually get in prison! She had a meltdown when the teasing became too much and attacked one of the girls in her "friend" group. She got sent to juvie for that. Her parents had to get a lot of recommendations from Compton to get her into the intern program and send her away.

The anxiety is genetic!!! Yayyyy!! Same with the autism.

Her trauma's left her with a very dysfunctional view of relationships and uses the animals as a way to feel like she has some control over her life and that she isn't a servant, she can lead too and help others improve themselves. This ended up leaking into

Heavy backstory stuff outta the way, back to the present. Sam's nickname is barncat because she runs off in the middle of the night and comes back the day after covered in mud and whatever else. She's basically made herself queen of the questionable area and forages for food and scrap metal at night. also she occasionally hacks up hairballs. no one wants to know why

Despite her.. questionable pancakes, Sam is actually a very good chef! She's just better at using more dubious ingredients.

She has PCOS and is on birth control to regulate it (projecting...)

Also IBS! She gets random tummy aches a lot and has zero clue why it happens.

Sam's kinlist includes raku chan gregor samsa and that canary she saw once when she was a kid

Sam constantly masks back home and the motherlobe is the only place she feels she can be weird and free. She used to have longer hair but she lopped it off sometime during her internship because dysphoria (i hc its like end of summer so near the end of the intern program that year)

Sam ends up deciding to become Raz's weird older sister. Sam has no braincells, raz simultaneously has a lot of and no braincells at the same time, but when they're together they somehow add up to -7. She gives Raz advice that ranges from suprisingly helpful to very dubious

She really does love her grandpa, even if she's seen less and less of him throughout her life.

Her specialty is zoolingualism, but I think she'd be skilled at abilities that require her hands, like Psi-Punch and confusion bombs. She used mental connection to create a lasso of sorts she calls "critical thinking" which lets her lasso enemies and tie them down.

Norma

Cw for emotional abuse and manipulation.

Norma's a trans girl, who uses she/her pronouns exclusively. She's a lesbian, 15 years old. She's also Afro-Filipina.

I've mentioned this, but her mother is the mayor of the town they're from. They've very much in the higher rung of their town when it comes to wealth.

Norma's mother is very cold and analytical, constantly seeing most things she does as transactional. Every positive interaction is a step towards a vote, every negative action reflects badly on her status. Average politician. This extends to her daughters and how she expects them to act.

She's the kid that's always trying to be on her parents good side, because failure isnt tolerated in their family and definite high expectations for both sisters and how they're supposed to behave. The two of them constantly needed to fight to get their mothers affection and love. But Lizzie's pretty much given up on trying to appease her, so despite her powers being seen as "less rare", she's the preferred child now.

Her mom uses her as a token of "I'm not transphobic! I have a trans kid!" Despite, in private, constantly misgendering her and insisting she barely change her name (norman to norma) You know how transphobes are a minority in this verse? Yeeep. Its better for her mom to pretend her views are something else so she can get more votes.

Should I add the two of them had a catholic upbringing? Big amount of guilt on her end but at the same time a sense of superiority and entitlement. She's devout and retreats into religious studies as a coping mechanism

Raz makes her feel threatened in her status as "#1 student" and she's very aggressive about it.

She's still not over her and Sam's breakup and is slowly starting to obsess over her and why it ended.

Norma is a big fan of detective shows like Columbo, Sherlock, and Death Book. She absolutely wants to be a detective and solve mysteries, part of the reason why she joined the intern program.

She has NPD, BPD, Autism, and struggles with insomnia.

Despite her last name, neutral to christmas.

Shes a teachers pet and would remind the teacher of the homework just to piss a specific person off.

Touch averse, only lets people she trusts touch her.

She's a closet weeb and uses her psychic abilities to make her glasses glow like an anime character

She has a sherlock based tumblr (or livejournal or whatever you want them to use) and gets into ship discourse at 3 am. She also writes amateur death note yaoi. On paper. She gets so embarassed about it she burns it as soon as she's done.

She misses the time she spend with her sister and envies how much freedom she has from rebelling against her parents. She wishes she could do the same but also wishes they could go back to normal so Lizzie can have a seat at the dinner table again.

She can do glassblowing with her hands.

Lizzie

Same CWs as Norma, Cw for emotional abuse and manipulation.

She's closeted genderqueer and a lesbian, uses They/She pronouns. She and Norma are twins but Norma insists she's the older one.

She's just given up on her relationship with her parents. No matter what they do, she isn't going to go back to constant competition and stress. She doesn't want that anymore. The Natividad sisters give off "rich parents in a gated community" vibes but Lizzie abhors their entire lifestyle and spends like 90% of her time outside the house doing random shit

She's realized the privilege that comes with her position, and decided to hang out more in punk spaces and with kids considered "teen delinquents" or "the wrong crowd".

She prefers dumpsterdiving and thrifting over the stuff her parents buy her, stitching and crafting her own clothes is an act of rebellion because they constantly scold her for wearing "Rags".

Her parents finally gave up, deciding to go "Fine, you want to be stubborn? We'll just pretend you don't exist." They give her somewhere to live but otherwise don't acknowledge her existence in the family until she learns to behave. She created a second hangout spot in an abandoned building with her friends and she'd spend long hours there.

She'd rather be a high school slacker who hangs out with poorer punk kids who arent "in the right groups" and actually have a social life than fighting for the spot of "perfect precious angel child" for the rest of her life. No matter how many punishments they give her. She won't let anyone know, but the way her parents treat and talk about her really hurts.

She has undying hatred for hostile architecture and drags Norma along to melt the spikes.

She fake smokes. Using candy cigarettes and using her powers to make smoke because it makes her look cool but she doesn't want lung cancer.

Very into Christmas but more into the gift making and pagan traditions.

She reads vampire romance novels for flirting tips (and also cuz they're her guilty pleasure). She also pretends to be a vampire sometimes.

She enjoys going cryptid hunting and scouring local forums for information.

Hates wearing fancy dresses. Ripped up skirts and suits ONLY.

Introduced Norma to anime, favorite is Akira and fave manga is Battle Angel Alita.

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 10: Neglect

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 9

cw: brief discussions about food/appetites, discussions of child abuse (if it wasn't obvious from the chapter title)

December 1983

“Did you hear?” Mary whispers into Julie’s ear as they walk down the hall. “There’s a rumor going around that a girl is seen walking around the woods over by Denfield.”

“It’s just another ghost story,” Julie dismisses as she gets to her locker, switching out her textbooks.

“Well, duh.” Mary emphasizes. “I was just telling you because you live right by those woods. You might see her.”

Julie turns to her best friend with a blank expression. “I don’t believe in ghost stories. Especially ones that are made up by middle schoolers. You know they’re just messing with people. Probably to get poor kids to a place where no adults could see to throw rocks at them or something.”

Mary sighs and leans against the lockers. “You’re right. But like, let me know if you see any ghosts or something.”

“Yeah sure,” Julie says sarcastically, not believing the latest rumor. Ever since that kid came back from the dead, it’s a constant thing. Apparently, there were a few other unexplained disappearances and deaths during the same week. It all started a giant conspiracy that something was wrong with Hawkins. Something bad.

Obviously, there was something sort of wrong. A kid did go missing, and a few other people died. This is a small town, things like this just don’t happen. At least not often. But when they pulled that kids body out of the lake and then he showed up in person, alive, a few days later. That made this more unique than the run of the mill kidnapping or murder. It made it a ghost story.

Julie felt bad for the kid, she saw him getting picked on just for being alive. Not his fault that he got kidnapped, or that the sick fuck who did it decided to fake his death. He didn’t deserve to be branded just because he lived. But something was off with Hawkins, and everyone knew it. Or they were fine living in their own delusions that this small town is just like every other one in America. Perfect, conservative, and peaceful. Even if it was anything but.

When Julie gets home, she stares at the woods through her bedroom window, rolling her eyes when she thinks for a second that maybe she should go in and see what the rumor was about. It’s stupid really. It’s all just fake. She’s not gullible like that.

But then just as she turns away, there’s a small flash of something moving in the woods. Against her better judgment, she believes in the rumor mill just a little bit. The figure comes back, just a little beyond the tree line. What looks like a girl Julie’s age, wearing a ratty old dress and a coat too big for her.

Eyes catch Julie’s through the window and the girl runs away. Looking all too real to be ghost. Juile grabs her coat from the front door as she runs around the trailer, right to the tree line to see if she can find the girl.

“Hello,” she yells into the woods. “Is someone there?”

She feels stupid, of course there wasn’t anyone there. The echo of her own call being the only response signifying that. But for a second it all seemed so real. She didn’t seem like a ghost.

Something was wrong with Hawkins, and Julie knew that. Maybe one day she’ll figure it all out.

. . .

Present Day, December 1986

Steve pulls himself awake, drenched in a cold sweat and heart pounding. Lungs heaving with quick, short breaths as his body stays in its panic. Eyes darting around the room to find something, anything to show him that it was fake. That it wasn’t real.

The nightmare still wrapped around his chest, right where the scars litter his torso, making his breaths feel constricted. Making his body feel tense. There’s nothing here to loosen it. Nothing to break him free. Nothing to show him that this isn’t real.

Phone. Steve can use the phone. That works wherever he is, here or there. It might not work well, but it will work just enough. He grabs it as the tears still fall down his face. Dialing the only number that he can think of. The only one that might break him out of his spell.

Because he just needs to know their alive. That he did save them in this universe, instead of leaving them to die. That they were still here.

The phone rings for what feels like an eternity. Only echoing the anxiety running through his veins. Each second without someone on the other line only proving to him that they are really dead.

“Hello,” Eddie’s groggy voice comes through the line.

“Eddie,” Steve says with breaks in his voice. Any other words getting stuck in his throat.

There is rustling over the line before Eddie talks again. “I’m coming over. When I hang up, call Robin so you have someone to talk to, ok. You remember her number?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know her number.” It’s a stupid question to ask in any other circumstance. But reality is shifting an uncertain right now, numbers aren’t the most important to think about.

“Good. I’ll be there in ten. I’m here Steve, I’m alive, you’re alive.”

Steve takes a few long, heavy breaths. “You’re alive,” he chokes. “I’m alive.”

“There you go, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead, and Steve’s heart can’t help but pick up again. He stares at the numbers on the phone, typing in each digit of Robin’s number carefully. When the line rings again, he’s stuck in the same loop of waiting. The same damn loop of waiting.

“Buckley house,” Robin’s says half asleep.

“Rob,” is all Steve can get out again.

“Steve.” Her voice awakens with concern. “How bad is it, do I need to come over?”

Steve shakes his head, feeling how tense his muscles still are. “No, no. Eddie’s coming over. Said to call you while I waited for him.”

“Well don’t give him the credit, I made the system. How bad?” she asks again.

“There’s nothing here to tell me this isn’t real.” His eyes shoot around the room again, finding nothing that reminds him of his home.

“Shit,” Robin whispers. “I thought this might happen. But it’s ok. It’s not real, Steve. Your mind is playing tricks on you. You’re in real Hawkins, in your bedroom. Julie’s right across the hall, and Eddie’s on his way. And I’m right here. Not physically, but that doesn’t matter. Do you understand?”

Her words slowly work their way into his head. Not enough to fully calm him down, but something to start slowing down the beating of his heart. “Yes.”

“Ok, good. Do you want me to keep talking?”

“Yes.”

Robin fills the silence of his room, his house, with a bunch of mundane nonsense. Mixed in with affirmations that he’s ok. But anything to get his mind away from where it is. To break the cycle of thoughts that keep replaying in his mind. Slowly his breath starts to calm, but his guard it still up. He doesn’t know what can pop out and get him in the dark. Doesn’t know what dangers are still there.

He hears the front doorknob rattle before it opens and shuts. Hears the soft footsteps up the stairs. The shadow of Eddie as he enters Steve’s room and closes the door behind him. Steve crumbles into him as he sits on the bed, letting Eddie take over.

Eddie carefully takes the phone from Steve’s hands, pulling away his fingers from where they’re holding it in a death grip. “Hey, Rob. I’m here now. Yeah, I got him. I’ll call you when he falls back asleep. Yeah, talk to you soon. Thank you, bye.” He awkwardly reaches over Steve to hang the phone back on the receiver.

Pulling Steve so he’s resting on Eddie’s chest, right over his heartbeat, he starts the routine. Calming words, naming what’s in the room that’s different. Repeating over and over again that he’s alive. That Steve’s alive. How they’re safe in right side up Hawkins, not the upside down. Slowly but surely bringing Steve back from his nightmares, back from his fears. Grounding him in reality.

The tightness in his chest slowly relieves and the beating of his heart slows to match Eddie’s. With every breath Eddie takes, Steve takes one, holding it as Eddie holds it until exhaling. Focusing on the sensations in Eddie running his fingers through Steve’s hair, rubbing a hand in circles on his back. His mind slows, and everything finally relaxes.

“Thank you,” Steve finally says.

Edde presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Anytime. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It wasn’t even that it was bad. It was normal. There was just nothing to bring me out of it.” Normally he could see the plaid on his walls, trace the lines with his eyes around the room to see the differences. To see that there weren’t vines. But they were gone.

The plaid was gone.

Steve sits up again, the panic he was just relieved from finding its way back under his skin. Eyes darting around the room to the plain walls, everything changed. He changed it. Steve changed it. Without permission. Just because he wanted to.

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

What are his parents going to do when they come home to see this? What punishment is he going to face? What can he still face? He’s an adult now, not a child. There’s not much that they can do. But that didn’t matter. It never mattered.

“The walls. I changed the walls.”

Maybe they’ll ship him off to some college that they paid his way into. Maybe they’ll force him to work for his dad’s company.

Maybe they’ll finally kick him out.

“Yeah, we painted them two weeks ago.”

He can’t afford to get kicked out. Not now. Not when Julie depends on him, depends on him for having this house. He can’t lose her too. Not when he’s done so much to keep her in his life. In his home. What is going to happen to her if he no longer has a home for her to live in?

“I wasn’t supposed to change them. Not without permission.”

His heartbeat pounds in his ears again. Mind reversing back into the memories of his childhood. Hearing how the drawings were ripped off the walls. Shame gaping a hole in his chest, remembering his mother’s scolding. Fear bubbling underneath his skin that was long forgotten or learned to ignore.

A warm hand envelopes his, Steve almost flinching away. But it warms his cool hands, slowly bringing him out of his head. Slowly, his eyes blink awake, and his body relaxes. The adrenaline retreats and his ears stop ringing. He can hear again.

“Steve, you’re ok. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Eddie’s voice registers. The soft tones calming Steve more and more.

The room widens from where it was closing around him. His breath deepens. In and out. In and out. His eyes close, centering himself again.

“Not while I’m here, while Robin’s here. We’re not going to let them hurt you again.”

Steve’s eyes flicker open, looking around and naming what he sees. The curtain. The desk. The picture frame on the desk. The open closet door. The dresser. The shirt hanging out of the dresser. The walls. The walls that he painted. The walls that he now loved.

Squeezing Eddie’s hand, he turns away from where he was looking, finding the comfort in Eddie’s eyes. Feeling so lucky that he can look into them and feel this way. To feel this loved. How sad he was in a time where no one ever looked at him like this. How lonely he was then, and how full he feels now.

Eddie takes his free hand and runs it along the side of Steve’s neck, thumb tracing his jawline. Leaning in to press their foreheads together, taking a deep breath that Steve mirrors. Steve’s hand finds Eddie’s side, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. They sit there for a long time as the moon light streams in through the open curtain. All that was once wrong feeling right again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie whispers into the silence.

Steve takes a deep breath, running the hem of Eddie’s shirt between his fingers. “There was a day when I was in elementary school. I don’t remember what grade exactly, but I had brought home an art project that I loved. I wanted to hang it in my bedroom, so I got the tape and did it myself. My parents were actually home then, and my mom came into my room. She saw the picture, and ripped it off the wall, ruining it. Only things she approved were supposed to decorate the house.”

Eddie presses his lips into a thin line, no doubt keeping a million thoughts he really wants to say in his head. Steve would let him though. He was never able to truly say what his parents were like, not really. Typical asshole parent talk was normal for teenagers, but this was a different level that was almost unspoken. It was kept a secret, but Steve didn’t like secrets anymore.

But instead of saying anything, Eddie pulls Steve into a hug, cradling his head against his chest. Holding him in a way that no one ever did, Steve letting himself just melt into it.

“I hate your parents,” Eddie says with a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“I hate them too,” he whispers into Eddie’s chest. “I hate them so much.”

. . .

Julie walks over to her lunch table, seeing Max and Jane returned to their spots. They’ve been eating with the boys the last few days, and it was pretty clear the reason was because of her. She yelled at them after all. Well, not physically yelled, but definitely snapped. She was mean,  meant to be mean.

It was out of a place of hurt, she knew. Last week was rough, to say the least, and that day especially. Everything around her felt like an attack, when really it was just her looking for things to fire at. And so, she shot at the only two friends she’s had since the ninth grade.

Now it was her time to apologize.

“Hey,” she said while placing her lunch down on the table. Pulling out food, stomach grumbling at its contents. Actually hungry for once, wanting to eat.

“Hi,” Jane said with a smile, but she always did that.

Max nods in her direction, but says nothing, going back to eating her food. Julie takes a bite of her sandwich, letting the silence ruminate around them. Uncomfortable silence. One that means there’s something that’s been left unsaid.

After a few minutes, she’s done replaying what she wants to say in her head. Can’t help but feel like it’s not enough, but it’s something. Julie’s done a lot of something in the past few months, nothing ever feeling real or right enough. Life feeling just a little less full than it once was, because it was true. But as she finishes a normal sized sandwich for the first time in weeks, and still feels hungry enough to eat a small bag of chips and an apple, something might just be right enough.

Right enough to take a few steps forward before taking a step back again. Progress was progress, but it wasn’t linear. At least according to the pamphlet that she was given in the first few days of her mother’s death. Then, nothing felt like it could have gotten better. That the first big hill of progress could never be reached. And while she still doesn’t think that it has, there are little bumps along her path that shouldn’t go unnoticed. Days where the world feels lighter, and the sun in a little brighter.

But before she can even say anything to make up for the lows of last week, Max starts talking.

“Look, I’m sorry for bringing up your mom a few days ago. You’ve gone through a lot, and it wasn’t really our place to, so I’m sorry. We can forget about it and just go back to normal.”

Julie is taken aback, taking a second to think of a response and scrapping whatever she was preparing before. “I was actually going to apologize for snapping at you.”

“You were going to apologize to us for that,” Max says, appalled.

“I mean, yeah,” Julie shrugs. “You guys were just trying to help, you didn’t deserve me being mean just because I was having a bad day.”

Max sits back in her wheelchair, crossing her arms and looking at Julie with her clouded eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, but Jane cuts her off.

“I do not think you need to apologize to us. When I thought my dad had died, it was a lot. And I was angry. Max was angry when Billy died, too. We understand. We are just sorry that we brought it up at a bad time.” She stares at the cookie in her hands, breaking it apart in small pieces as she talks.

“I didn’t know that your dad died,” Julie says softly, not quite sure what else to say.

Jane presses her lips together. “He didn’t really die, I just thought he did. You know Chief Hopper, how he disappeared for almost a year, and everyone thought he was dead. He is my father.”

“I’m sorry, that must have sucked.”

“When Billy died, it was different,” Max says quietly. “He made my life a living hell. I wasn’t sad that he died, really, I was sad that he died while we still hated each other. I wondered what it would have been like if we had become friend, real siblings. He saved my life that night of the fire, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty that I didn’t try to save him back.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, Max quickly brushing it away. Jane grabs Max’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Two friends who have gone through more loss that Julie realizes. Pain that mirrored hers in a way. Pain that she understood, like they understood hers. And while Max lost a brother that she hated, and Jane got her father back, that didn’t diminish the grief that they felt.

“What I’m trying to say,” Max continues, “is that we know what you’re going through. Like actually know. Even if it is different. So, while we’re not going to force you to, you can talk to us about this.”

Maybe Julie did want to start talking about it. More, at least. With someone other than Steve, even though that helped a lot. Talk with people who knew what it was like to lose family, to lose people they loved. Julie finally felt ready to talk about it.

“My mom died in the beginning of October. Car crash. I was in foster care until three weeks ago when I moved in with Steve.”

While the pain is still there, still pinches at her heart like it always does, a sort of relief is paired with it. Like someone else knows, someone else that Julie trusts. Another person she doesn’t have to fake it around. The weight on her chest lifts just gently, giving her some relief.

“I am sorry,” Jane says.

“Me too.”

“I think the worst part about it is that I don’t even know what caused it. She was sober, and it was October so there wasn’t any ice. The police think there was something in the road that caused her to swerve. And a part of me doesn’t want to know, but the rest of me does.”

Jane reaches across the table and places her hand on top of Julie’s. Comforting her with a gentle look. “I know.”

For the first time, Julie isn’t angry at someone saying that they know. She isn’t angry, and she isn’t crying. She let people in because she wanted to, because they would know.

And it felt good.

. . .

Steve is sitting in the manager’s office making the next round of schedules. Fitting everyone in, scheduling people for more days than he should normally because they still haven’t filled his old position yet. It’s just been sitting idle with no one to take it.

He thought about asking if Julie wanted it, she had said that she wanted to get a part time job sometime in the future. But she’s going through enough right now to get a job on top of it. And she doesn’t need one right now, he still has access to his dad’s card so as long as it’s not something super suspicious, it’s fine. That’s the thing though, eventually he won’t have access to it.

And while he always knew that and has been saving up for that day for a while, it’s still burning a hole in his mind. Especially now. Especially when he has to care for someone other than himself. If it were just himself, he could move into a shitty one-bedroom apartment no problem and be fine. But with Julie, he needs at least two rooms and a nice enough place to keep his custody.

That’s not a bad thing, not for him. He’d do anything to keep custody of Julie, that much he knows. It will just take a little bit more work. And a large chunk of money that he has saved.

Robin knocks on his door, letting herself in. “You’re going to hate me.”

“I can’t change your shifts again just because you’re my friend,” he grumbles without looking up from the desk.

“I prefer the term platonic soul mate, for one,” Robin crosses her arms. “And two, why?”

Steve sighs, turning the chair to look at her. “Because it’s deliberate favoritism and I could get fired for it. I can’t lose this job, Rob, you know that.”

“Fine. Oh, wait hold on.” Robin runs into the employee lounge and comes back with a sheet of paper. “I do actually have to change my availability. I got my class schedule from the community college yesterday.”

Steve takes it and places it in his to do pile. “Thanks.”

The phone on his desk rings.

“Family Video, Steve speaking.”

“Hey, it’s Julie. Nothing bad, I swear. I was just wondering if I could go over to Max’s after school.”

Steve smiles a little to himself. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Eddie should have room in his van to take you, I can call him if you want though.”

“Max is on the phone with him now. We’re good.”

“Good, call me when you want me to pick you up, ok.”

“Ok, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, I’m glad you guys are getting along. I’ll see you later then, ok. Bye.” Steve turns to Robin with a proud face.

“Julie, I’m guessing.”

He nods. “She’s going over to Max’s house after school.”

Robin’s face lights up. “Oh my god, that’s great. I knew they were like school friends but not like friend friends.”

“Me either. I’m glad though. It’s good for her to talk to more people her age.”

“You’re one to talk,” Robin picks up a folder and hits him gently on the head with it. “When I met you all of your friends were middle schoolers. But she’s doing better?”

“Better’s a good word for it.”

Truth was, she is doing better. Last week was rough, but she took the weekend to take care of herself. Talked to him more about it, which he liked. He even saw her doing some work on the kitchen table instead in her room. Which isn’t a lot, but she wasn’t closing herself in one place anymore.

It was starting to feel like her home too. Because it was, he knew that. But she was starting to believe it, let it be her home. Her things started to scatter themselves around the house. Her shoes at the front door, hair ties across all the surfaces, her cassettes on the table. Textbooks and regular books, a small pile of VHS tapes in front of the tv. Everything made it her home, their home.

Home finally started to feel like Steve thought it should always supposed to feel like. Like there was a family that lived within the walls, a warm energy pulling you in instead of a cold void. Love actually being there. He started to like going home at the end of the day, because he knew he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

“There’s still going to be days that are hard, next week probably, but she started talking to me about it, so that’s good.”

Robin smiles. “Good.”

She pushes off the desk and heads back out to the store, leaving Steve to get back to his work.

. . .

“Sorry my house is a bit of a mess, we’re still getting used to living here,” Max says as she rolls into her small house. “We can go to my room, it’s down the hall.”

There is a lit lamp right in front of the turn for the hallway, Max stopping right past it before turning and heading down the hall. She turns into her room, another lamp next to the doorway. Julie follows her, Jane next to her.

“I can still see light, that’s why there’s so many lamps. It can sometimes be really annoying, but it helps me move around the house without help.” Max explains.

Jane walks over to Max’s bed, holding out her hand for Max to grab, stabilizing her as she lifts herself out of the chair and onto her bed.

“You can put your stuff down anywhere,” Max says after situating herself on her bed. Jane places her bag at the foot of the bed, Jane placing hers next to it. She sits down next to Jane on the bed, just waiting.

It’s been a while since she’s hung out with friends before. Mary had moved away in the ninth grade, and while they tried to keep in touch, it didn’t work. Different time zones suck when it comes to trying to keep friends, and letters are nice, but not like the real thing. And there was never really anyone after that. So, Julie doesn’t really know what to say.

“So,” Jane starts, shifting herself to lean against the wall. “How is living with Steve?”

“Pretty good. Different then what I’m used to, but not bad.”

“That’s good,” she smiles.

“Which one of the guest rooms did you take,” Max asks.

Julie laughs. “What used to be the pink flower room. But we painted over it a few weeks ago. It was so gross.”

Max widens her eyes and moves her head to look at El, having the same expression, Jane reaches over and squeezes Max’s hand. “Yeah, I remember is being pretty gross when I stayed over there a few times. He let you paint over the wallpaper?”

“Yeah,” Julie nods. “We painted his room too.”

“His room too?” Max questions, taking a second to think to herself. “And he was ok with it?”

Ok wouldn’t be the right word. Grew to like the idea is more of what really happened. Or at least what she thought.

“Not at first, but then he was.”

She knew that it had to do with the way his parents were about the house. How controlling they were over what it was decorated with. But she didn’t think they knew. He didn’t seem to share it with people other than Robin and Eddie, and just now starting to with her. She assumed that he wouldn’t share that with the kids. With how reluctant he was about sharing it with her, it would make sense.

In the time she got to know Steve, she noticed a pattern. Taking care of other people before taking care of himself. Letting her paint her room and only deciding to paint his when Julie said something. Taking Robin’s shift even though he has a headache. Always making her food before his. Having odd hours at work to pick up or drop people off at school.

While there was nothing wrong with some of those things, it made her think how long he would go to make other people happy. Especially with his parents. Their expectations of him were unrealistic, unattainable. At least from she knew. How long has he killed himself to appease someone who didn’t care? How much longer would he have done it if she didn’t come along and block the path he was so used to walking on?

Jane reaches over and grabs Max’s hand, drawing a shape on her hand. Talking to her without speaking, like Steve and Robin sometimes do with their eyes. Max making a facial expression that Julie can’t read, but Jane can. Max takes a deep breath, leaning back on her headboard.

“We’re not supposed to tell you this, because it’s not our place to tell you. And we’re still not going to say a lot, but it feels wrong for you to not know,” Max starts.

Jane nods along, agree with Max. “We want you to know something about Steve that he would not tell you. He does not want you to worry about it.”

“We said we know Steve because he used to look after us sometimes, and that’s true, but it’s a bit more complicated. You know the fire, and the earthquake that happened in the past two years.”

Julie nods her head, not quite sure where this conversation is going. “Yeah.”

Max takes another breath before continuing. “We can’t tell you everything, but the short of it is that we were all there those days. At the mall during the fire, and right where the earthquake started. And because of that, we all get pretty bad nightmares.”

“Especially Steve,” Jane adds. “I remember before I moved to California, I was scared that a new home would affect my nightmares. Make them worse. He told me what helps him when he has a bad nightmare. He said it was the plaid wallpaper, it reminds him that he is at home, and not wherever his brain told him he was.”

Julie’s mouth opens to speak, but the words get caught in her throat. She remembers a few nights ago, she woke up in the middle of the night and heard someone come through the house. Robin and Eddie had keys, she knew that, so she peaked out her door to see who it was, finding Eddie going into Steve’s room. It was weird, but the two of them were acting weird when Julie was around anyway. She thought it was because of that, not because of this.

Was Steve panicking across the hall from her and she didn’t even notice. Did he think this would happen when she suggested he paint his room too? Did he go along with it just because she said to, or did he really want it?

She thought she was helping him. Helping him break the reigns of control his parents trained him into. But she actually just ended up hurting him in the end. And he didn’t even say anything.

“It’s not your fault you didn’t know,” Max says, somehow reading Julie’s mind. “He would never had told you this. There’s so much he doesn’t even tell us. Especially about his parents.”

“Bad people,” Jane whispers.

Max nods. “Yeah, they’re dick heads. But he’ll never say it outright. He’ll say that their shit, and that his dad’s an asshole, but just like any other kid. It’s when he slips up and tells you something bad that you really see how his parents really are.”

“He’s told me,” Julie says quietly. “A few times, never a lot. Just that his parents were never around, and he was never allowed to change his room. That he doesn’t see his parents as family anymore.”

It’s heartbreaking when she says it out loud. Realizing then how similar they really are. Two kids that lost their parents. Her through death, and his by choice. Somehow his feels sadder than hers, because he had to make the choice to not view them as family anymore. Julie didn’t choose to lose her mom, Steve chose to lose his parents. Never really having them in the first place.

“That’s more than he ever told us,” Max says, some unrecognizable feeling lacing her words. “Not even Dustin and they’re the closest out of all of us. The kids anyway.”

“We are glad that he has someone around all the time now. That house was empty. Cold”

Julie knows what she means, feeling the emptiness crowd around her when Steve isn’t home. How something so large can feel claustrophobic when there’s no sign of life there.

“I am too,” Julie says.

When she and Steve were first getting to know each other, she remembers feeling helpless that she needed someone she barely even knew. She had nothing, and he was the only thing that she had left. It started to feel like Steve needed her too, that she was giving him something that he always wanted.

Now she knows that the feeling was true. Steve needed her as much as she needed him. A family because theirs wasn’t around anymore. The sad fact of both of their existences. And it’s heartbreaking.

. . .

“You want to come over for dinner?” Steve asks as his and Robin’s shift ends.

“Sure.”

The drive is silent, Steve’s thoughts mulling about in his mind. He’s been thinking for the past few days, about everything. About his parents, and his childhood. The list of wrongdoings in the folder Sarah gave him sitting on his desk. Resting open, with a pile of paperwork next to them. The question of what he’s going to do pressing down on his chest.

“Steve,” Robin breaks him out of his thoughts. “Are you ok?”

Steve takes a deep breath, feeling anything but ok. “Can you ask me that again in a few minutes?”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see her face fill with concern. She reaches out and grabs his arm, comforting him in a way that so few people can. Filling the void of his childhood where touch was foreign, only making him want to break down right here and now.

“Of course.”

When his house appears past the bend, clouds start to fill him mind. Fill his eyes. As he pulls up the driveway, he can feel the dread weigh down him limbs. The knowledge of what he wants to share already weighing on him.

Robin rushes to his side, lacing her fingers with his and taking on some of the weight. The first person that ever made him feel like family only proving more why he has to do this. Why the dam needs to finally break.

Silently, he leads her up to his room, pointing to the files on his desk before sitting on the ground. Knees propped up and elbows resting on them, back leaning on his bed. Watching as Robin’s eyes bug out as she reads, flipping through lists of evidence, and all the paperwork to prove it. Everything he never had the ability to say all in once place, telling him that he could fight and win.

He could tell the world that he was neglected as a child, he just needs someone to hold his hand during the process.

“Steve,” Robin softly says, breaking the silence of the room. “There was so much more than I knew.”

All he can do is nod his head, drawing his knees closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

No one ever held his hand when he was young except when he was learning to walk. After that, it was too much. The nannies were told to never let it happen, and his parents never did either.

There was a day he went on some errands with his mom. A large dog was walking towards them, and as a kid there’s nothing scarier that a large dog. Especially when they are never around any pets. So, Steve reached up and tried to grab his mom’s hand, but he was swatted away. He was left to face the dog alone.

Left to face the world alone.

Until the kids, and until Robin. Until Nancy and him became better friends, and Eddie came along. Until Hopper started checking in more and Joyce and Claudia invited him over for dinners. Until Julie showed up on his doorstep and gave him a chance to build the family he was deprived of as a kid.

Steve was truly alone until the age of eighteen, when he was what the world considers an adult. But right now, he’s still the child that cried when his parents left the day before his tenth birthday. The kid that cried and no one came to scare away the monsters under his bed. The kid that is still here waiting for them to come home.

Robin sits next to him, pressing her side close to him, letting him know that he’s not alone. He’s not alone anymore. She says nothing, waiting for him to speak. For the words to get dislodged from his throat where they’ve been trapped for years. Waiting to be spoken into reality.

“The last inspection I had with Julie’s social worker, Sarah,” Steve starts, choking on his words. Vision blurry. “She said that with what she knew, I could sue my parents for neglect and probably win.”

“She got all of that from one conversation with you?” Robin’s voice is soft, but heavy. Comforting in a way without taking away from the conversation.

He shakes his head. “The first page is what she had, the rest is what I added.”

“And all of those other papers?”

“Evidence of paying nannies, their trips, hotel stays. Everything to show that they weren’t here.”

Robin leans her head on his shoulder, wrapping one of her arms around his. “Have you decided what you want to do?”

“Can’t you just make it for me,” Steve breaks.

Her eyes fill with tears, blinking them away so she can be the strong one instead of him. But the heartbreak is visible on her face. The same heartbreak that has been living in his chest for years.

How could the people who created him make him feel like this? How could the people who were supposed to love him leave him all alone?

“As much as I want to, I can’t. If it were up to me, your parents would be dead in a ditch, and I’d steal you away and lock you in a room so I could love you like they never could forever. But this, this has to come from you Steve.”

Of course it did. He knew it did. But it shouldn’t even had been a question in the first place. Parents were supposed to love their kids. What did he do to make them not love him?

Before a few months ago, he would have let this go. Just went about his life knowing that he was never going to talk to his parents again and move on. It would hurt, but no more than it did before. Now, it’s like the hurt has so many more layers, and it’s all because of Julie.

Julie showed him, in a way, how easy it was to stay. How easy it was to try. Steve might not be her parent, but he’s taking care of her like one. Providing her a home, with food, with safety. Basic necessities but it’s so much more. A shoulder to lean on when she cries, conversations after school, saying goodnight before going to sleep. Laughs, and smiles. Bad days and good days. He’s here, and so is she. And it’s so fucking goddamn easy.

He couldn’t imagine having a life where he looked her in the face and decided that it would be a good idea to leave for two years. To say any of the things that his parents said to him. Because she’s not a disappointment, or a failure. He’s proud of her for just existing, and it wasn’t hard.

Why was it so hard for his parents to love him? To be proud of him for just existing. It wasn’t easy. Steve’s faced death in the face four times now, and each time left him battered and bruised more than any person should. Scars litter his body and mind, but he’s alive. But just because he didn’t get into college, because he works a retail nine to five, he’s a disappointment. He’s a failure just because he’s Steve.

Not Steven Harrington, Richard Harrington’s son. Just Steve.

Steve was finally enough for himself, so why wasn’t it enough for them?

“It hit me the other day, when I was talking to Julie about her mom. She’s the age I was when my parents officially left for good.” He swallows a lump in his throat, trying to just get these words out. Tears escaping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “I look at her and think that I could never leave her. That I would always want to be a part of her life. How could my parents look at me then and think that they didn’t want to be around me anymore?”

He takes a shaky breath. “I was just a kid,” he cries. “How do you leave a kid like that?”

Robin lets out a shaky exhale, tears forming in her eyes fast than she can blink them away. Crying for Steve in a way that he could never really cry for himself. Having the same questions that he is now, and coming up with the same blank answers. There’s no excuse, and he knows it.

“I’m so sorry,” is all she can say through her tears. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through this.”

When he opens his mouth, all that escapes is a heavy sob. Robin pulls him into a hug, holding him as he breaks. Crying for his childhood that never happened, and for the teenage years that were lost. For the adult that is mourning the time that never was. For the experiences that never happened. The love that was never there.

The family that wasn’t provided and he had to build himself.

The nights where he cried out for someone that never came.

The times where he reached out and was just pushed away.

The bruises he had to nurse himself because he had no one to come home to.

The hospital stays where no one sat at his bedside.

The parties that he threw for attention that was never given, only to make him emptier in the end.

The broken feeling that came to him night after night, questioning why no body wanted him.

Steve cries over everything.

Time moves at a pace that he can’t figure out. He feels stuck in a loop or rushed through an afternoon at the same time. When the pool of his tears finally empties, and his throat and mouth is dry, he just sits there in Robin’s embrace. And she lets him. Comforting him in a way that he always wanted to be, the thought only setting him spiraling again.

But throughout it all, she holds him. Rubs a hand up and down his back while the other arm holds him steady in place. Keeping him upright when all he wants to do is crumble. If he does, she’ll be there to pick back up his pieces and reassemble them. Keep him together as he falls apart.

This is what familial love is supposed to be like. This is what he’s always wanted. And what he wants to give to other people someday. What he hopes he already is.

“I want to do it,” he finally says. “I want them to know how much they hurt me.”

“We’ll bring them hell.”

We’ll, because Steve isn’t alone anymore. He doesn’t have to traverse life by himself anymore. Not even this. It might be his fight, but not one he fights alone. Not anymore, and not ever again.

. . .

Julie enters the house, Jane’s brother dropping her off, so she didn’t have to call Steve to pick her up. She doesn’t know what to do about the conversation she had with Max and Jane earlier, or if there is anything that she should. All she does know is that Steve might be hurting in his own way, and she wanted to be there for him as much as he is for her.

She finds him in the kitchen, putting away some food into the fridge.

“Hey,” he says, a bit shocked. “Wasn’t expecting you. How was Max’s?”

“Yeah sorry, Jane’s brother Jonathan gave me a ride home, I forgot to call to tell you. But good, it was nice.”

Steve smiles. “Good, that’s good. I’m glad you’re getting to know them. They’re good kids.”

“Yeah.” She’s trying think of what to say without bringing it up. Doesn’t want to start a whole thing, but it feels wrong to say nothing. Especially with what she knows.

“Did you eat, there’s some leftovers from what I made for dinner. I can heat them up for you, if you want.”

“Thank you,” Julie says, the words feeling right in her mouth. “Not for the food, but for everything. I know that this hasn’t been easy for you either. So, thank you.”

Steve looks at her with a soft expression on his face. As if those words meant something more to him than just a simple thank you. “You’re welcome,” he says. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Julie smiles, walking up to give him a hug. Home finally feeling like a home again. Two siblings, that might have just met a few months ago but it didn’t feel like that anymore. They were family. Real family.

Part 11

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

[the-pobble-terrarium]

So, now that we’ve got the general stuff out of the way…

It’s time for RAINBOW DASH AND FLUTTERSHY’S BACKSTORIES !!!!! (Seperated into two posts because their backstories are LOOOONNGGG)

Starting with…

Fluttershy!!

(Cw for ableism and neglect/abuse)

Fluttershy’s background is… tragic. She was born with a heavy, short figure and stunted wings, this made flight INCREDIBLY hard for her. Many of the foals and fillies she attended school with would bully her for being “fat” or call her a “flightless bird,” and teachers dismissed her attempts for help, saying she just needed to “try harder.” This severely stunted her confidence.

On top of this, she had great hoof power, but brittle bones, meaning she got hurt very often and wasn’t able to participate in a lot of the games her fellow pegasi could. Isolated from her peers and shunned by the majority of pegasi for her disabilities, Fluttershy quickly became depressed. Unfortunately her home life wouldn’t be much of a safe haven for long either. Around her teen years, her father had discovered a secret… one that would break them. 14 years ago, 9 months before Fluttershy had been born, her mother had cheated on her father with an earth pony. Fluttershy was not her father’s child, and worse yet she would never gain a growth-spurt so hoped for that would even out her body weight and allow her to fly. Her stunted figure, her heavy hooves, the strength, the smaller wings- these were the product of her half-earth heritage, and they would never change.

This news fully destroyed her family. On the night of the discovery, her father and mother got into a massive fight. They next day her father left without a goodbye. He had been played for the last 14 years, and he couldn’t handle being there for any longer, couldn’t handle staring at the daughter that wasn’t even his. Her mother became bitter and spiteful of Fluttershy, she blamed this family’s destruction all on her, and in turn Fluttershy believed too that this was her fault. She was the reason her entire family had fallen apart in her eyes, the ugly secret of their history. When Zephyr heard the news, he wasn’t sure how to respond in honest. It was a huge shock to him, and he claimed he was too busy with ‘college’ to visit after that. Fluttershy’s home life quickly became a nightmare after the incident, and the only light of hope really was her dear friend, Rainbow Dash.

Years later, when Fluttershy turnt 18, Rainbow Dash’s parents offered to let her live with them, knowing her home situation. Flutters accepted hastily, just wanted to leave that awful house, and packed her things. That was the last time she had spoken to her mother, her last words to her being “good riddance.”

Fluttershy’s mood improved from there on and she began saving up to live in ponyville, where the animals and creatures welcomed her as she did they. Years later down the line, her father reached out wanting to reconcile, and while it was hard to work through the issues he left behind with her years ago when he left, they managed and Fluttershy’s relationship with her dad improved well over time, even gaining a loving stepmother as well.

[webtoon-related-tournaments]

Thaddeus is the father of main character Lenore

He disowned his daughter when she became disabled and locked her in an attic room because he was ashamed of having a 'hysterical spinster' for a daughter. When he received news that the building she was in burned completely to the ground, he didn't even acknowledge her existence. When he was finally asked about her, his response was 'I don't have a daughter'

Jahad is the adopted father of thirty girls.

He uses his daughters as weapons and kills them if they step out of line.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Best Friend pt 2

tw: self harm, mentions of violence, general deranged yandere shenanigans, angst

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

part 1 here

my masterlist

this sucks bros i broke my fucken leg and i cant move, my cast is so itchy and i cant scratch and i feel nasty cause i cant shower

feeling bads, so thats why i churned part 2 out faster thn usual , its shorter than before but just need some angsty comfort atm

as uaual many errors cause i did not proofreasd

enjoy i hope

You left the exam hall a couple hours later. To find out that your dad left a total of seven missed calls. You thought someone fucking died.

Of course, you called back. Preparing for the worst.

Your father picked up the phone, he explained that it was your friend. He had a mental breakdown because you weren't there for the opening of his dream restaurant. Eventually though, he calmed down enough to come back into the building to return the phone, eyes noticeably dull and tired, worse than before. He never stopped trembling.

The three of them sat down and talked.

Neither of your parents knew you stopped contacting him. They thought everything was fine, so your friend couldn't fault them for that.

Your parents trusted your friend, so they gave him your phone number and told him basic information about you now. Such as, the country you're studying in and the course.

You felt a pang of guilt, but you had to move on. You understood that he was busy, it would probably do no good for you to try and reach out to him. You would just ruin his plan and distract him too much. At least, that was what you thought.

Usually, he would call every day. But that turns to once every three days. Then once a week. Then never.

It's true that he would not miss a single day to send you a sweet message, a reminder to practice self care and that you're very dear to his heart. Which would be then followed by an update to his progress, it was stressful to read what he was going through and that was all he talked about. You felt like his personal diary, he stopped asking about how things were going for you.

Since it doesn't seem to bother him you weren't replying because he would send his texts when the entire world is asleep, you stopped opening his texts too.

You wanted to tell him in person that you're moving out to pursue your studies and you were granted a student loan. A crushing student loan. But... You believe his ten minutes of free time a week is better used for his sleep. Or even going to the bathroom perhaps.

A day passes by another and in the end, you moved on without him. Without telling him. It just always slips your mind every time you see him brisk walking towards his beat up car with a stack of metal trays in his arms. They must be extremely heavy, you could see the veins bulging out of his forearms and forehead.

It was hard to watch his cheeks get sunken in, his hair going back to its' matted, unhealthy state, dark bags forming under his constantly bloodshot eyes. He looked like he aged a decade older from all the stress and pressure. But... He is working towards his dream and you're happy for him. It was great that he finally achieved what he wanted, he deserved all of its glory for working his ass off like that.

You held no ill will towards him, but you grew apart. He was so consumed with work that the friendship suffered in silence, there were no more fun hangouts together at the mall, you don't get to eat his cooking anymore (you didn't want to burden him by buying a tray, he already has too much to do), no more fun conversations about the silliest shit. It was just... Bank loans, revenue, expenses, investors, employees, employers, credit score, mortgages, taxes etcetera. The urgency and distress was also rubbing off you too, there were nights you woke up in a cold sweat because you had a nightmare that your hypothetical restaurant failed and you went into debt.

So you thought, he needed his time. You shouldn't really interfere with anything you don't understand. Your friend is already nose deep in the real world, you're not even close to it yet and you're not ready for it yet either. Therefore, you took the route most young adults take after getting a high school diploma: getting a bachelor's degree in some field of study that you probably don't even like.

You trudged onwards to the direction of your hostel. You need to get ready for your shift, money is a little tight now and you don't want to burden your parents too much. They're already sending a lot of money to support your living.

If your friend knew you were working hard for some extra money, his heart would break. It would be devastating news to him, no doubt, he would at least have a dozen freakouts and breakdowns. But you don't know that, yet.

As expected, your friend eventually called you. It was later than expected; it took him a week before he called your new phone number himself. He needed to calm down and collect his thoughts, as he knew that he might just drive you away if he comes barreling in with passionate yelling and sobbing over the phone. Plus, he also needed to focus on his new restaurant too, he can't just abandon his lifelong dream like that. How else is he going to make enough money to provide for you? He can't take back the money and time he invested in this now, all he can do is keep going and find some compromise.

It was tempting to go M.I.A. and hastily book a plane ticket to wherever you're studying. He was deeply yearning for your presence, he was desperate, he was clawing his arms and decorating them with nasty scars in an attempt to keep the urge at bay. He was extremely miserable but he had to keep going, to build that wonderful, cushiony foundation for you and him to fall back onto.

Everything he does, he does it for you.

He was polite, kind and pleasant during the first phone call you both had in two years. Though, there was a noticeable twinge of hurt in his mildly wavering voice. He still sounded like he's happy and relieved to hear you again.

The call started off with a greeting, then some small talk, then finally to the meat of the call;

Why didn't you tell me? He asked. It seems like he was fighting back his tears.

You didn't answer right away, you don't know what to say.

You could tell him the truth that he was too busy with his endeavors and you just don't feel like interfering by burdening him with "unnecessary information". However, you think that might wound him deeply as you're somewhat blaming him for your own actions.

You could lie... and tell him what, exactly? Either way, it would hurt him even more and there is probably going to be some resentment.

So, you apologized. You kept your reasoning brief and simple; you needed to move on. You acknowledged that whatever you did wasn't very nice of you, but you still had to proceed and you thought that it would be better that you didn't tell him.

There was a moment of silence between the both of you.

On the other side of the call, your friend was wracking his brain, trying to comprehend what you just told him. It came across as you not wanting to do anything with him anymore because you feel unprioritized, unimportant, inferior. Guilt and remorse was eating him up, he is putting all the faults onto himself.

He spiraled downwards in that call, spewing nonsense and absurd promises to destroy everything he has ever worked for just to have you back in his arms. Deranged negotiations involving the idea of blinding, deafening, mutilating or doing some sort of bodily or mental harm to himself to prove something; prove that he puts you above everything else and also to punish himself for neglecting you.

It was horrifying to hear your dear friend babble about putting himself into financial ruin for the sake for your forgiveness. He spoke of his accomplishments and advancements as they were disposable, as if it held no value compared to you.

This isn't normal, far from it, Your friend devolved so much to the point he was making demented pledges to kill and maim your enemies for you, and only you. To eviscerate the ones you dislike and send videographic proof of it, to disembowel his business associates to show that they mean absolutely nothing to him. Mind you, he was talking about real, breathing, living humans.

It was hard to fully grasp the insanity in his now incoherent words, he was muttering apologies and self hatred. Promises of severe self harm was also common in his mad speech. At one point, religion and superstitions were thrown into the mix. But you could not understand what he was chanting about.

What the fuck are you talking about? Your friend didn't pick up on your distress... or words over his excessive tirade against himself.

Everything I do, I do it for you, and I would do anything and everything for you. I love you- You hung up.

You couldn't take a second more of that. It was really difficult to see this side of him. It hurts you too that he became like this, perhaps all the stress from building a business from the ground up fried his mind. Whatever it was, you knew that he is not good for you anymore.

You sent him a final text message telling him that you're not comfortable with him after that massive sanity slippage. You wished him luck and expressed your regrets that it had to turn out this way.

You didn't give him a chance to respond, you blocked him immediately on everything and went on with your day.

Whatever he said kept replaying in your head like a broken record. It was pure horror.

[princesslizzyfnafton]

I don’t know what to do, where to go. Everyone has changed for the better and no one sees it except me! I usually run and hide somewhere whenever I feel as though everyone is upset, but I don’t know where I would even run to! Survival instincts, I suppose. 

CC is so terrified of Mike and I understand why, but I just WISH he’d give him another chance. After all, it was an accident. MIke was just as upset as I was, if not more. I remember he came down into the bunker on the anniversary. He was sobbing. I had never seen him that upset. He didn’t even let me see him like that after the accident. I suppose he didn’t realize that I was down there and could see him through the glass, but I could. 

Both my brothers hate my father. I don’t understand why. It could be because he did horrid things, but he did that for us, didn’t he? I believe him. But then again, I do remember the nights I fell asleep, tears on my cheeks on the floor outside of his office. He said it was work calls and that’s why I couldn’t be there, but maybe he did laugh a bit too much for a work call. But when I got lost, he risked getting arrested to make sure I got home safe. He can’t be evil through and through. I have to believe that some part of him is proud of me. It may be deep inside him, but he still loves me, right? I have all these doubts about who to trust and for once, maybe I’m a bit glad I never got to grow up. After all, emotions are tiring. 

I still love each and every member of my family, but I feel a constant dread and confusion since we’ve reunited. I can’t help but wonder if it was a good thing. All it has seemed to spawn is more fighting. I thought we could be happy, now that we were reunited. I thought I wouldn’t hate my birthday as much this year. I thought that I could share it with my Father and BOTH of my brothers. I suppose maybe that was too much to ask. I suppose I hoped for too much. Something bad always happens around me. I didn’t want it to happen again. I thought I could fix it this time, but instead I seem to have made it worse. It’s like there’s a curse, something horribly bad, inside me. I was right the first time. I AM broken. I CAN’T be fixed. I should have just stayed in the basement, in the scooping room like a good little girl. I thought I was retaining what was good, but maybe it was left behind that fateful night. And now- now it is destroyed and can never be recovered. Maybe the family was better fragmented. Maybe I should leave before I muck things up more.

[snowfolly]

Writing Patterns

I was tagged by @ollysoxisfree and @icybluepenguin thank you both so much!!

No pressure tagging @yurissweettooth @tragedybunny @tallymonster @queen-scribbles @brabblesblog & anyone who wants to do the thing!

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

I’ve not got a lot of work out since I started writing again later last year, but this is what I’ve got! A few of these lines are about hunger and longing, but otherwise I don’t think that I see much of a pattern (other than that they all revolve around Astarion lolol.)

(All of these works are one shots aside from Endlessly)

-

A Time Before: There was a time before blood, gods… a time before the incessant gnawing in his stomach, his palate ravenous for blood and blood and BLOOD and gods please MORE BLOOD and…

A Simple Life: “Imagine though, if we had stayed back in Evereska we could have had a simple life. Well… at least compared to the ones we’ve lived. Perhaps my bitch of a mother would have sold me off to your family to wed you — for a handsome dowry of course,” Tali mused, staring up at the night sky and the thumbnail of a moon that bled the faintest silver light upon the land, “can you even imagine? We would have been absolutely miserable.”

Nothing Can Make Up For That: For a time Astarion had screamed ceaselessly in the perpetual darkness, scratching his fingers to tatters, to the bones. They healed in a short time, as they always did, but he would run them ragged again and again.

Devoured: It seemed to Astarion that all he had ever known was hunger. Before his death he had only been peckish though; he had gathered a taste for riches and glamour rising through the ranks of Baldurian society.

Endlessly: Astarion glared at the fire from his makeshift excuse for a tent as he assessed the bizarre situation that he had found himself thrown into. He felt like a stone tossed across water, careening wildly and destined to sink.

(WIP) Night Blooming Flowers: “Keep em’ closed, love,” Tali breathed into his ear and Astarion grinned from the side of his mouth, exposing a coy glint of fang in the golden candlelight. He entertained his songbird’s little game by holding one pale hand over his eyes, though he desperately longed to behold his lover, whose lips now lingered so very close to his skin.

(WIP) untitled: Astarion eyed the ring under the glass, dazzling in the pale mage light set above the display. It was a pretty thing for the most part, a patterned gold band with two fine peridots surrounding an intricate enamel death head. The hollows of the eyes were set with small black diamonds, and it was the skull itself that he didn’t much care for. A memento mori.

[crumbleclub]

Michael Afton's desperate desire to be saved never really went away.

It started when he was small. He didn't even know what he was missing– he didn't have the context for that– but the aching hole in his chest that grew with every moment of normal, necessary nurturing he was denied hurt, and he wanted it to go away.

As he got older, he understood bits of it. He wanted to be hugged and asked about his day like Charlie was; he wanted someone to ask what was wrong when he cried like he saw on TV. He wanted his dad to look happy to see him.

When Evan was born, even as Michael was steadily growing to dislike being touched, he was jealous of how often the baby was held. He knew it was stupid; he knew babies needed to be held, but something about it still hurt. He imagined what it might feel like to be picked up, since it never happened anymore.

He was only six years old.

As Michael got older, and things at home got scarier, his mindset shifted. He stopped wanting things to change, and instead wanted someone to take him away.

He daydreamed about being rescued. He daydreamed about being stranded on a faraway island, and whoever lived there taking him in as one of their own. He daydreamed about some tragedy befalling his father, and of being taken in by someone else.

That last one made him feel guilty.

His dreams settled in that state. The theme persisted throughout his life.

They sometimes twisted after the Bite. Sometimes, he'd imagine that his rescuers would hurt him; punish him for what he'd done. He'd turn on the news to see another disappearance, and some part of him hoped that he would be next.

At its core, though, all he wanted was to be taken away; taken out of that house that was empty and cold and filled with broken glass.

He grew up, he moved out.

His daydreams remained the same.

In his apartment, he'd sit and imagine someone coming in the night to take him away from his dad's house.

In the security office– as he watched the clock and locked Bonnie out for a third time– he imagined someone waiting for him outside, asking why he'd been out so late and offering to drive him home.

(He'd save them. Nobody could save him, but he could save them.)

(They could have saved him. Countless people could have saved him.)

(Nobody wanted to.)

With the scooper staring him in the face, he humored the idea of someone barging in and demanding to know why he would do something so reckless, so stupid.

They'd pull him out of the way.

They'd take him home.

They'd wipe the blood off his chin and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

When he opened the pizzeria, Mike pretended that Henry's recordings were just that: somebody saving him. Henry had sometimes been the face in his dreams, but it had hurt too much to imagine other times. After all, Henry had never believed him.

Did he believe him now?

And, as the office burned, he turned his head to the doorway. Smoke filled his lungs, and, if he squinted just right, maybe, maybe he'd see someone show up to save him.

Nobody ever did.

[pluralcultureis]

Maybe plural culture is knowing your trauma is enough because every other system got fucked up and you were just

emotionally neglected

bullied

and socially exiled

nothing system worthy. Enough for a bit of depression, but not enough to be a system.

Fun fact; those are the main traumas that caused our system to form actually