#implied abuse cw

[loveasachoice]

He's got his father's eyes.

What a joke. Wash your face.

[captain-astors]

[asofterutena]

(Perfection doesn’t breathe.)

[jamiesfootball]

omg the "jamie gamifies being nice" description had me HOWLING. and then the gut punch that he still gets sent back to city anyway. :( (also i can see early s3 jamie being like "if i talk to trent that's a nice point bc im being friendly but also a dick point bc itll piss roy off" and trying to do the math in his head to figure if they cancel each other out)

Oh, him going back to City was just the halfway point.

Despite being the captain, Roy tensed. His eyes flicked to Ted, sure that any second the gaffer would tell them off for talking during movie night.

"This is ridiculous," Isaac muttered. In the darkened conference room, his voice carried with all the subtlety of a blinding torch. “Why the fuck ain’t they playing him?”

“You guys,” Sam interrupted. “Twitter is saying that Jamie was originally intended for the starting lineup, but was pulled last minute due to injury.” Roy scoffed louder than he meant to. “What injury?” He was the whiniest person Roy knew- a list that included an actual six-year-old. He would've mentioned in his texts if he was injured. The lads hushed him.

[charmantevamp]

@ofravensandseas / continued.

Audrey's mouth curled into a gentle smile, but, this once, there is an air of sincerity and honesty they -- Audrey, are most often bereft of. To most people, but, Aloïs isn't most people.

"Go on then, tell me," the raven-haired lass said. "And," a beat. "What manner of demons?" Audrey is not awfully determined to tell their story -- in its entirety, no one, not even herself, is privy to that. Still, if allowed to recollect the thing. Perhaps, maybe, who knows... she can figure out the meaning of it all. If, indeed, it has any meaning at all.

[kitsch-s]

my smile is a snarl

my hands are made to hurt,

claws

i am broken.

i am selfish.

i am cruel.

my blood is iron

forged in violence

raised in apathy

a kicked dog taught

to growl

to bite

hackles raised

teeth bared

chanting

i used to be worse

i used to be worse

i used to be worse

i could be better

if only you let me

-mutt

[callbackpinged]

@bitemedotmp3 // subversion pt1

θ Cyn was seldom given a chance to leave the Grand Elliott Hotel. She was a Worker Drone that had been leased out to work there and wasn't given much of a break. Humans were still content seeing her as a tool, even though there had been pushes lately to recognize the personal needs of drones.

"Big sisTER Uzi... I was yelled at A-GAIN." She'd found a way to sneak away after noticing a familiar, purple drone in the lobby. The two had a hiding space in one of the storage room they used regularly. "And then. My neck joint MYST-ERIOUS-LY stopped working properly." A lie. There was nothing mysterious about being slapped so hard it had come loose again.

She knew she was a little creepier than most drones. "They've been TALK-ING. about. factory. resetting. me..."

[conduitandconjurer]

🙌 oh why not. might have to get creative, though.

Send 🙌 to strangle my muse (no longer accepting)!

It's Reginald's clipped, nasal voice in his head.

The first line of defense upon attempted strangulation is to blind your opponent!

Klaus isn't exactly the type of person known for fighting back against adversity: not with the more conventionally recognized forms of battle. But it's even harder to fight off this spindly, bruised child who will never know the exhilaration of living in a safe skin, the way Klaus, after years of the hard-to-recognize type of fighting, has.

He can't fight a protege who, if time for Klaus were linear, would have been his mentor.

He can't push his goddamned fingers into BJ's sad scared eyes and scoop them from their sockets. Like, fuck training, Jesus. The kid's crying, right now, while assailing him.

Get with the program, Number Four!

Shut up, dad. Remember your "gift" to me: it's not like it'll be permanent.

"Beej...!"

His own voice is haggard. Dissociation tries to bleed into the corners of his thoughts, makes him wonder, not for the first time, lately, why so many people feel entitled to lay their hands on some part of his body.

"Beej--Tangy--hk!...Dream, what'd I do? Stop...!"

He smacks the young prostitute's cheeks, imploring gently, and then insistently, and then a little savagely.

Klaus begins to black out; his eyes glow a veil-piercing teal and he is out. Bright light, the same hue, his ribcage its lantern, and then an explosion. The force throws BJ back a good six, seven feet.

Klaus collapses awkwardly on his face. He sits up and gawks through a mop of curls.

"The fuck--? Did I just go into the....fricken....Avatar State, or somethin'?"

Green eyes shift toward the waif's face. Anger and grief sink in, rapidly clouding over the comical shock.

'Why'd you hurt me, man? Whatever you needed, you coulda just asked! Like, damn! I'm super fuckin' chill, okay?! "

[byanyan]

"I can't believe someone would do this to you…"

gentle careㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ∘ ˚ ( accepting )

ㅤa disbelieving, disdainful snort is forced almost aggressively through their nose as they hold the ice pack against their darkening eye and cheek, though their gaze remains pointedly on the ground beneath their boots. unconsciously, byan curls in on themself where they sit on the concrete steps; it's an entirely defensive move, a subconscious need to protect themself and hide. they hate that angela's found them like this.

ㅤㅤ" don't bullshit me, o' course you can. "ㅤthe bitter words are practically spat out at her feet, muddled emotions rising in the back of their throat to be expelled in a comfortable and protective anger. hard to appear vulnerable and weak if you hiss and snarl. harder for one to pity you if you piss them off.

ㅤㅤ" 'm sure some part'a you wants t' deck me too. who doesn't? "ㅤa sneer, sarcastic and lacking in any actual amusement. still, they can't bring themself to look angela's way. (their eyes are still too red and wet, their hands still trembling. eyelids flutter shut, brows furrowing to fight off that resurging feeling of being so small, so powerless—)

ㅤㅤ" s'nothin'. dealt with worse before an' i'll deal with worse again. "ㅤit's the one thing they seem destined to encounter over and over again, after all — that betrayal of someone meant to protect them causing them harm instead. cursed, too, to experience it every time as though they're eight years old again, paralyzed with such overwhelming fear that they forget themself. forget that they can fight back now. weak. pathetic. stupid.ㅤ" just— fuck off. leave me alone! don't need you lookin' down on me right now, alright? tell me i deserve it 'n piss off. "

[natural-harmonia-posting]

How was meeting your dad again? <3

I don't remember very much, if I'm being honest.

[novastrae]

for all that you have, you don't seem to be happy. the voice is confused, like a child learning what grief is for the first time. what for do you grieve? is there something that would bring such grief peace? or perhaps... no. not peace. contentment?

What do you grieve?

It's a question that plagues your mind. Memories erode with the centuries, and yet... the things you grieve plague your mind. Hands. Whispers. Looks.

You can feel it all, as if it all happened yesterday.

Do you grieve your brother, who sought to shield you from the horrors of the world, only to unintentionally thrust the horrors upon you by letting you take his place as retainer?

Or perhaps you grieve for a mother you never quite knew, the woman she was before you and your brother came into the picture?

Or perhaps -

" I grieve for my childhood, " You stated matter-of-factly. " I grieve for the things that ripped my childhood away from me, I grieve for the fact I was forced to be an adult from a young age, I grieve for me. " A pause.

" I don't know. I don't know if I'll ever find peace or contentment from the things that haunt me. "

[fanby-fckry]

“We’ll give her your love.” Sorry, I haven’t had any love for her since I was nine years old. Best I can do is seething hatred covered in a thin veneer of false sympathy.

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ❝  𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬,  𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥.  𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧�� 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.  ❞ ~𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲

                              ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝟒𝟎𝟒 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. ( @realmyths )

       𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 a double-take, as though what he’d seen had really been a mirage or otherwise a ghost — something that wasn’t really there. Shit, he’s spent so much time and energy running from the before that he’d nearly succeeded in forgetting it existed. Of course, when he really looks at it, the memories will always be there — if not in his head, then on his body. There’s still a lot of guilt scarred on his heart, too. He’d always put himself in front of the other kids — didn’t matter which of the many homes he’d been in, that part of the story was always the same. When he ran away, he knows that he left some of them to rot. He also knows that he inevitably wouldn’t have survived the alternative.

      He’s lost contact with all of them now — because Westley van der Sterren no longer exists — he’s Westley McCarthy now. In the end, that old piece of him had disappeared into oblivion the same as the boy who had been the breaking point into him finally doing it — finally running away where no one could ever find him. Better to be on his own. He’d gotten a taste of love and family once — enough to know that the life he had been living prior hadn’t been fated to him. He’d just had to grab the notion of fate and turn it upside down.

      Persephone looks happy — much different now from the young lass who often cried herself to sleep at night. Good for her. Westley imagines a lot of kids don’t get through the hell that is the foster care system in one piece — he surely hadn’t.

      He looks over the rim of his coffee as he takes a sip. He shouldn’t be here or doing this — tiptoeing back into the past and opening up doors he’d sealed off with a hammer and every nail he could find. “Sometimes,” he says slowly, “I like to people-watch. I’ll make up epic grand adventures of their lives, and then sometimes I’ll introduce myself — see how close I was. Or how wrong. Usually I’m wrong. I think there’s beauty in that. The not-knowing.” It’s safer, too. The not knowing. The not getting close enough to know. “People can be whatever you want them to be. The world can be a thing of beauty again. I gotta admit, I don’t quite have you figured out. You look happy — I almost don’t want to ask.”

[normalhorsez]

gggruh

i wish i knew how it felt to live andnnot always feel a seesaw shift away from danger. i wish i could stkp having my hackles raised 24/7.

i wish i didnt always feel so tense

i want to know what it is to truly relax and be safe

[lcngdays-arc]

@fangmother from [ here ]

Idris is a picture of nerves, holding his cane so tightly his knuckles have gone white. He by no means wants to leave this poor woman, but the idea of being home late terrified him almost beyond reason. Draco had his issues aplenty when he was home on time, being late was just out of the question.

Still, this was a small town that he lived in. Small enough that there weren't taxi's and uber's didn't reach their service out so far, so it wasn't as if Idris could simply call her a car to take her where she was trying to go.

But when Idris sees the bruise, all resolve to gently tell her he really really couldn't help leaves him at once. He looks at her in a new light, himself sporting his own bruises, and he relents.

"no, no..." He says softly, "i... i can help, it's no trouble. where was it you were looking to go again...?"

[charmantevamp]

He just cares so much, he's devoted, he says we have a connection… I thought this time was different! Why did I think he'd be different? But it's never, ever different!