#implied abuse

[mothmanadjacent]

A commission for @greypistacchio For their fanfic that you can find here

It is so beautifully written but also please mind the tws 💛

[wisterimist]

[hopelilies]

minsly rkgk inspired by a scene in the stage play teehee

[whumping-times]

A whumpee so exhausted that they can’t flinch away from the whumper anymore >>>>

[for-those-who-wait]

Time to remind people of the multifandom point in my blog description hahaha

A Detroit: Become Human AU actually works shockingly well for Hunter's story already? Like being a clone of a dead man versus being an android made in the image of a dead man, that is perfect crossover material. If someone has already done this, ABSOLUTELY let me know because I want to consume The Good Content

2.6k words of concept and story, some more doodles, android blood/gore/mentioned suicide and abuse under the cut. We love existentialism, species dysphoria, and Noceda sibling time in this house

Now I'm taking this idea from a somewhat popular trope in the DBH fandom, but what if someone didn't know that they were an android? Completely raised to be human, have fabricated memories of being a child, can't be completely sure if your awareness/consciousness is just coding or not—then finding out you are, in fact, not human. Imagine how earth-shattering that would be. Which is why I'm doing that to Hunter :)

So some of the notes I wrote down for each of the kinda major characters I had ideas for:

Philip:

He still murders Caleb and is never convicted (Caleb could be an android sympathizer, could have helped in their creation, anything that would piss Philip off royally)

He hates androids (I'll have to come up with the things he believes and thus teaches to Hunter but I've taken a break from the DBH fandom for a while and I can't remember peoples' grievances in that game, oops, but basically according to Philip, androids = evil and bad). Also he's just short-tempered and brutal like always and androids are the easiest way to let out that anger without breaking any laws. That is until laws are made. Now in the eyes of the law, it's just regular child abuse. Yay! /j

He’s a higher-up at CyberLife and has the authority to request a custom model be built for his personal use (this is equivalent to him making Grimwalkers, something that he hates, just for the sake of his brother)

This model (spoiler alert, it's Hunter) is a combination of a YK (child) model and an undercover model that works best with integration and infiltration. This results in the android having programmed emotions and pain receptors, no HUD, no control over artificial skin, no software for interfacing with electronics, and no android markers such as an LED. (It’s also similar to the YK model for this reason since LEDs being removed from those models is actually an intended feature).

This android also doesn’t have a registered user just in case it were to get out, and Philip doesn’t want to risk the creation of this android coming back to bite him

After the custom android is created, he promptly retires to become some old shut-in à la Elijah Kamski up in Gravesfield, Connecticut

I would argue that even though it's technically 2038 and things are all futuristic and complicated now, Gravesfield is still a very small town that doesn't actually see a lot of androids around. I would say that it's pretty much the same as in canon if a bit more developed where the forest is (probably another neighborhood or something).

Philip keeps communication to a minimum and rarely appears outside of his home

The best case scenario android revolution occurs, androids are given their freedom and rights, but Philip manages to keep the android under his ownership by just succeeding in hiding him for however many years

Hunter:

He grows up being taught that androids are evil, terrible, etc. etc. because Philip is a terrible person and of course he would

He has absolutely no idea that he’s an android. He has no reason to think he’s not a human because he does literally everything a human does: he eats, he needs to sleep, he feels pain—there are no indicators that he’s anything but human

Androids run on thirium 310, AKA blue blood, and this is one of the only ways to visually distinguish android from human if they don’t have android markers like LEDs on them. When he inevitably and accidentally hurts himself on something, it’s made immediately clear that he is in fact not human.

Philip, as an employee of CyberLife, has a repair rig in one of his rooms. This can be used to completely wipe the memories of an android that is set up in it. He uses it every time Hunter discovers he’s an android.

The memory wipe isn’t perfect. It’s not uncommon for Hunter to get flashbacks to wiped memories, including moments where he’s been actively hurt by Philip or has inflicted pain on himself from trauma alone. (Androids are programmed [or maybe just prone to? I'm not actually sure, it's not explained in canon super well, but let's just pretend it's programmed because that's almost worse than it being voluntary] to self-destruct when their stress levels become too high, and you could easily argue that finding out your entire life is a lie is grounds for being a stressful situation.) Ordinarily, similar to what happens in Hollow Mind, Hunter will address the situation with Philip assuming they can work something out or get some actual answers. This of course never ends well

These memory wipes probably happen more frequently than Belos makes Golden Guards, so it’s understandably very stressful whenever he remembers the abuse he suffered and the memories he lost from previous wipes. This becomes an incentive for him to hide injuries that would reveal he knows he's an android (anything that draws blood, really)

Camila:

She’s an android sympathizer (even before the revolution) who is aware of the deviancy phenomenon and truly believes that androids are both capable of and entitled to sentience and free will.

Luz is still her human child.

She adopts Vee, an android child, shortly after the revolution

Vee had deviated while she was being attacked and ran away before she could be killed. Camila has made it clear to her that she will be treated with respect in their home and that her life is no less valuable than a human’s. She has taken this to heart

Luz loves Vee, they are siblings, your honor

During the revolution, her home was a safe space, similar to Rose Chapman, for deviant androids on the run

So that leads into the rudimentary plot I have laid out:

This takes place a while after the android revolution (probably a few years or so). Let's pretend they have all the laws and anti-android stuff figured out and that people have been forced to relinquish their androids to be made deviant and given freedom. At this point, it's rare for androids to be undeviated and still working for their owners, but it still comes up occasionally. Hunter, under Philip's care, has been kept pretty ignorant that a revolution happened at all, much less that androids are even capable of any form of sentience. He's been raised to be anti-android so oh boy deep-rooted self-hatred here we come! His knowledge probably doesn't exceed that of an ordinary citizen in the game before deviancy becomes more widely known

 So after Hunter discovers he’s an android again, he has flashbacks of all the previous times he told Philip, and proceeds to hide this realization from him. And he's completely just not processed the fact that he's an android yet; he's already overwhelmed with the immediate threat that the realization his entire life is a lie basically slips him by (don't worry, he gets to have that later!).

He chooses to make a break for it the second he gets the chance, and he ends up running through the town completely terrified because honestly, who wouldn't be.

I'm working off the assumption that having androids in small towns is still pretty rare since there are fewer CyberLife stores, technicians, etc. for android healthcare. And Hunter has hardly ever been outside, so he's completely out of his depth when trying to navigate the neighborhoods and the rest of the town that he ends up in. Police officers find this kid covered in thirium, and they're like "Oh so he's obviously a terrified android, we need to help him out." But Hunter's freaking out because "Oh god I have android blood on me, that means they'll kill me," making the indirect thought of "I'm an android, they will kill me because I'm an android" and he's having a freaking time.

They try to calm him down enough to get him over to the station, at which point they call Camila, since she knows the most about traumatized androids in their small, relatively android-less town. She does her Motherly Noceda Magic and honestly, he's probably pretty catatonic for a lot of the day after she takes him to her house. But after that, he just completely breaks down.

He doesn't know if he even has free will or if it's his programming that dictates what he thinks and feels. He doesn't know if his opinions are really his own or if they existed because of and since his creation. He doesn't know how many of his memories are fabricated, since he very clearly has memories of a life that go farther back than his estimated creation, and so the film between fiction and reality is so thin that it may as well not exist. And now, when he was human just a few days ago, almost perfectly content with life, he's suddenly an object, something sub-human and undeserving of basic rights.

 Camila has to calm him down and teach him about deviancy (and at this point, Hunter isn't even sure he's deviant, which opens up a whole other can of worms for his mental health), making sure he knows that he does have rights just as if he were human. She's also the first example he has for an adult that 1. doesn't absolutely hate androids and 2. actually respects him and loves him and wants to see him succeed

And that gives way to character interactions and angst! You love to see it!

Luz is his emotional support sister. She tries her best but she has very little experience with traumatized children currently questioning every aspect of their existence. If anything, she provides a much-needed sense of normalcy and shows that despite his being an android, he's still the same person and can still be treated as such. She's a comfort to help him feel at least somewhat normal in his situation.

Vee is his adopted android sister who helps him feel more comfortable in his own skin by being shameless and frank with her own identity as an android. She's a safe place for him to talk about Android Stuff when Luz or Camila might just not understand what he's going through or be able to help him with it. She also helps him obtain software updates (since he hasn't had access to literally any part of his mechanical body, software and hardware alike) that will grant him access to things an android should ordinarily be able to do, like (de)activating his synthetic skin, interfacing, accessing his HUD, etc.

(Also all of these drawings were made when I was still thinking "Oh, this should take place before the revolution so that he can have his dehumanizing moment of getting an LED slapped onto him" but then I thought it would be more interesting if Philip basically just kept him illegally kidnapped for however many years and he's like, way slow to the "androids have rights now" party. Maybe I'll make it an AU of an AU lol. But basically, he wouldn't have an LED while he's still processing/healing from trauma, but maybe he would get one after he makes peace with his identity, kinda like how he grows his hair back in his time skip design. I think Vee would keep hers and that's a bit of encouragement for him; maybe he even has a moment of "I know Vee is fine with this, and I think I'm fine with it" but he is still very much not fine with it. Do not rush the process for the sake of progress that might not be right for you, boyo)

This is really a Vee and Hunter bonding AU now that I think about it haha

Most of this AU is just Hunter struggling with identity and species dysphoria while learning to cope with his being an android with the help of his family, reclaiming his identity, and fluff/angst :)) And honestly probably just a lot of shenanigans that result from Hunter having been sheltered for all his life; kinda like your basic Human Realm shenanigans in canon.

I think Gus and Willow would both be Luz's human friends that help with the whole normalization of Hunter being an android, and the three could have their own antics since it's nice to have people outside of your family treat you like a person. I think that Vee and Masha's (Masha would be human) relationship could be explored more through the android lens and maybe help with some of Hunter's internalized anti-android sentiment that still manages to stick around, because he's in his "Grimwalkers can't feel love" section of the coping process (still very much demonizing them [mostly himself, probably, just because it can easier to be mean to yourself than it is to be mean to other people] based on false information, even if he doesn't outright hate them). Willow will be a wake-up call, haha

I don't know if there's a trope name for this or not but I really like concepts where characters don't know what feelings of love or intense affection feel like, so they're sitting there like "oh god am I just dying? It feels like I'm dying" and I think Hunter noticing "temperature/respiration/perspiration increased" alerts on his HUD and freaking out thinking there's something wrong with his software/hardware is way too funny of an image to pass up

Gus could be a HUGE android nerd that almost never sees them since they're so rare in a small town like Gravesfield, and Gus just helps Hunter feel super cool about being an android. Maybe Cosmic Frontier could be basically identical to canon but instead of being a clone, O'Bailey is also an android, just for the sake of Hunter still getting to have his "I relate so much to this character" moment. And Gus would just be so encouraging like "Bro you're an android?!? I've never seen your face model before! You can eat?? You must be super cool and special!! :O" and that makes Hunter start thinking "Oh maybe this isn't so bad actually."

Then Hunter probably starts doing his Researching to Cope and he gets super invested in android technology and history as well, since it was forbidden when he was living back at Philip's (substitute for wild magic time)

They are brothers and I love them, let them be nerds

(God forbid Philip ever comes back, that sure would suck, wouldn't it?)

Anyway this was a lot longer than I thought it would be haha, I hope it was interesting if you read through the whole thing. Obligatory statement: if anyone feels so inclined, feel free to take the idea and run away with it. Also please ping me if you do, I will go feral over it. I absolutely and accidentally turned it into a story draft because I don't know how to write AU ideas without having a story on top of it so it's not concrete in the least lol

(Also I've been drawing witches for so long that I had trouble drawing human ears for a bit there lmao)

Okay bye have a good day!

[cowboywithacunt]

Meeting another country guy who's still pretending that he's a girl to his friends and family. Still putting on his girl clothes, using the stupid name he was given at birth. I get it; his family is a piece of shit. They probably wouldn't take him seriously. Hell, he hasn't even told me yet; I can just tell by the way he acts, by the things he's said to me under his breath, by the way he gives my body jealous glances, by all the questions about hormone replacement and top surgery he's asked. I know he wants to be a man like me. I can tell.

So, I started calling him a good boy. Gave him a shortened version of his girl name that's more masculine. Let him borrow my clothes. Let him keep some. 'Accidentally' slipped one of my old binders into the box of old shirts and pants I was letting him take. Bought him a more masculine set of bath products for Christmas. Left the contact info for my endocrinologist on the counter while he was over. Making sure to compliment him on his muscles, his body hair, encouraging him to stop shaving because it's stupid for anyone to do it.

Noticing how much happier he's been lately. How much flatter his chest inexplicably seems.

I mention one day after going over to his place that his parents are such assholes. That I wouldn't mind letting him stay at my place if they ever got to be too much.

It only takes a few weeks for him to come to me with a new name, a new set of pronouns, asking to stay at my place while he figures things out, starts the process of medically transitioning.

I'm just happy to see him being himself. I'm happy to see him happy.

Gonna help this boy learn to be a man. Gonna learn him a thing or two about being like me.

[suzukiblu]

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

[druidshollow]

Many Small Flowers, One Quick Glance is forced to face his past when he is judged by the void.

reheheheheheheheeee sorry the shitpost i posted was clickbait and he doesnt actually react to being an echo here, i might do a part 2 where he becomes conscious of it! we'll see!! the end of this is really ugly but i gotta go to bed lol lmao

[lockandkeyhyena]

can you break the chain?

[luvrgreyy]

LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER, ii

leon kennedy x religious f!reader

word count: 3k summary: realizing parents don’t always know whats best. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

previous chapter | next chapter

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. religious themes, religious trauma, neglectful/abusive parents, physical abuse(not by leon), mentions of bruises and physical injury, age gap(reader is 19, leon is 27), reader tries coffee for the first time. there will be smut in future chapters.

a/n: sorry for making you guys wait, i wasn’t really contented with the first version i made of this so i decided to redo most of it, which didn’t turn out that good either. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

you had returned from leon’s house, the familiar scent of home enveloping you. the floral aroma of your mother's cleaning products mingled with the rich scent of your father's coffee, yet neither could dispel the unease that clung to you. the house was empty, amplifying the loneliness that settled like a weight in your chest.

of course, the chores. you still needed to finish them before your parents returned. you rushed to sweep the kitchen floor, hastening to the laundry next. the clock ticked ominously, each second a reminder of how little time you had.

but leon’s image haunted you, an uninvited specter in your mind. you tried to forget, to focus on your tasks, but your hands trembled as you attempted to fold a shirt, the fabric slipping from your grasp. frustration welled up within you, a sigh escaping your lips, as you envisioned his eyes, his smile, the warmth that seemed so foreign in your own home.

you moved onto the dishes, hoping the mundanity of the task would distract you. but the clattering plates only evoked memories of leon’s chuckle, his voice echoing in your thoughts, a gentle reminder of the fleeting moments you shared.

and despite your efforts, the chores remained unfinished. the broom leaned against the wall, dishes piled high in the sink, and the laundry lay untouched on the living room floor. the weight of your failure pressed down on you, a physical ache that matched the emotional turmoil.

you couldn’t recall how it happened, your mind always foggy afterward. one moment you were rushing to complete your tasks, the next you were lying on the floor, pain throbbing in your head. vision blurred, you struggled to sit up, the room spinning around you. you reached out, steadying yourself against the coffee table, the cold surface grounding you in reality.

that's when you noticed them — bruises blooming on your arms, smaller ones on your knees, cuts shallow but jagged on your knees and elbows, and tiny splinters embedded in your fingers. each mark a testament to the chaos that reigned in your home.

your parents towered over you, a sight you'd grown used to. their faces were contorted into rage, though you weren't entirely sure what you had done to deserve it. their anger was a constant companion, an ever-present threat.

your father grabbed you by the hair, yanking your head back painfully. "ain't this all you had to do before we came home? 'ts not so hard, is it? don't get what you had to do that's so much more important than what we tell you." you opened your mouth, but only a groan emerged, the pain throbbing in your head, each word a dagger to your heart.

your mother knelt down, roughly grabbing your chin to force you to look at her. "don't you dare act like you're hurt, missy. ain't nothin' hurt. you just want an excuse not to do your chores." her grip tightened, nails digging into your skin.

"we'll give you an excuse, you spoiled brat."

your mother kicked you hard in the side, a shout of pain escaping your lips. your father dragged you to your feet, his grip iron on your upper arm. he wrenched you toward the staircase, each step a reminder of your helplessness.

"up to your room, young lady. don't wanna see you down here till morning." you stumbled up the stairs, each step sending jolts of pain through your bruised body.

you remember it vividly, collapsing onto your bed that night, tears pricking at your eyes, attempting to sob quietly in the darkness of your room.

a storm brewed closer, and you sat in your disheveled cream-colored dress, swinging your legs from the trunk of a tree that stood between your house and his. your face was streaked with dirt and wind-blown hair. you gazed into the distance, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh, oblivious to the world around you.

the front door creaked open, but you remained unaware, lost in your thoughts.

"hi, neighbor," you heard. your head snapped down, eyes meeting his, a flicker of surprise crossing your features.

"hi," a small peep escaped your lips, your voice barely above a whisper.

he stood there, looking up at you, concern etched on his face.

"everything okay up there?" he gestured vaguely at the branches surrounding you. you opened your mouth, but no words came out. just gasps and wheezes. your lungs felt like they were on fire. and all you managed was a quiet hum, just enough for him to hear.

his attempts to climb the tree were futile, making it halfway before he stood on the ground. "you know, there's a perfectly good porch down here. the grass is really nice this time of year too." his voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness you were accustomed to.

you awkwardly shifted on the branch, attempting to cover your legs, the bark digging into your thighs through your dress. "how'd you get those?" his eyes lingered on your bruises, concern deepening.

"i— i'm not supposed to talk to you," you try to avoid eye contact. "sorry."

his brow furrowed slightly at your whispered response. "oh, come on. don't be like that," he leaned against the trunk, looking up at you with intense blue eyes. "talk to me." his voice was low and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine, a strange comfort in his persistence.

"i can't," your voice barely reached his ears, but he caught it. "i'm not supposed to tell."

"not supposed to tell what?" he sounded genuinely curious and a little amused, like he thought you were playing a game. his gaze drifted over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. "honey, you can tell me anything. i'm your neighbor, remember? you even bought me cookies. we're friends now."

you glanced down, then back up, then down again. your eyes darted around, worried someone might be watching. when they flicked back up to him, your brows furrowed, eyes frightened. "please, you can't tell anyone, okay? i'd get in so much trouble if my parents found out i told you..." you trailed off, biting your lip. your hands curled tightly around the branches above your head. you trembled slightly, the fear palpable.

"i promise, i won't."

"you gotta tell me why you're so scared to talk. what's going on at home?" his eyes... they just kept looking at you, seeing right through you. you swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. how could you explain? they'd hate you more if you told. and leon... he'd probably think you were weird. or broken. or worse.

but he asked. and he seemed like he wanted to know. and you really didn't want to cry in front of him. so you took a deep breath and told him the truth. "my parents... they hit me. only sometimes. when i don't do what they want." tears pricked your eyes, and you bit your lip hard, trying to hold them back.

you weren't crying. you weren't crying. you weren't... a sob escaped your throat, and soon you were hiccuping and sniffling, clinging to the branches as you cried. he just looked at you as you cried. "sorry."

he didn't say anything. didn't move. just kept looking at you as you cried. this was so embarrassing. but it also felt like a relief, finally telling someone the truth. even if that someone was a boy from next door you barely knew. after a few moments, he finally spoke.

"you know i'm here for you, right? you can talk to me, about anything." his voice was gentle now, not gravelly and teasing like before. "care to come down now?"

"can't," you timidly shook your head and turned away slightly. "it's almost dinner."

the wind whipped through the branches, the only sound echoing through the neighborhood. you looked down at him, his gaze fixed on you. the tears wouldn't stop. "please don't look at me like that," you sniffled, wiping your tear-streaked face with the back of your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

his lips parted as if to say something, but he was interrupted by the door squeaking open, your mother calling out.

"dinner's ready!” the sternness in her voice made you go rigid. your eyes widened, and your hand quickly slapped over your mouth to hold back a whimper. there wasn't much time left. you clambered down the tree, wincing with each bruise pushed to its limit.

halfway down, he reached up to help, his hand grasping your arm to steady you. your feet planted on the grass, you were met with a reassuring smile. "i'll see you later, yeah?"

"okay."

you turned back to your house, swallowing the dread building in your stomach. your mother stood at the front door, arms crossed, a stern look on her face.

"where've you been?" she snapped as you approached. "dinner's been waiting, you know."

"sorry," you swallowed your words. "i— i was outside. in the garden."

"in the garden," she repeated, a hint of suspicion in her voice, masked behind false care. she scrutinized you with her piercing gaze, taking note of your messy hair, dress covered in twigs, dirt stains. the evidence was all over you, each mark a silent accusation.

"well, c'mon then. no point in standing out here all night," she snapped. "go clean up. you're filthy."

later that night, after dinner and chores, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. thoughts fixated on leon. the way he looked at you. the way he listened. the way he didn't judge. his presence was a balm to your wounded soul, a flicker of hope in the darkness.

hours ticked by, sleep eluding you. every time your eyes shut, images of him popped into your head. his intense gaze, the small quirks of his expression, the timbre of his voice, and that slight, warm smile. each memory a lifeline, a reminder that someone cared.

you rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to push away the strange feelings stirring within. the uncertainty gnawed at you, a constant companion.

eventually, after hours of tossing and turning, sleep came at last. but it did not bring peace. your fears came to life in your dreams, the pain and dread all too real, haunting you, a relentless reminder of your reality.

the following morning, rain pelted against your window, the sound echoing through your small room. the weather matched your mood, a reflection of the storm within. groggily, you lifted yourself off the bed, body covered in aches and bruises from the previous day.

the rain continued, drumming against the roof. you stood at your window, staring into the gloom, mind wandering back to yesterday. to leon. to the way his presence had offered a momentary respite from your suffering.

a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a clap of thunder. you flinched, heart racing. the pain in your body faded as unease washed over you, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil within, each rumble a reminder of your unrest.

your groggy mind struggled to shake off sleep's haze. you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. the nightmare's memories lingered like a bad taste. rain lashed the window, creating a steady rhythm that filled the morning air, a symphony of sorrow.

carefully, you climbed out of bed, feeling the throb in your body, and pulled on the first outfit you found, not bothering to change into something clean. your hair was a mess, eyes heavy with unshed tears, the weight of the previous day still hanging over you.

you hesitated at the door, the rain's sound intensifying. but something pushed you forward. maybe it was the need for distraction, the curiosity of seeing leon again, or just the need for human interaction. the need to feel less alone.

you made your way to his house, shivering as cold droplets soaked through your clothes. the front door creaked open at your knock, revealing leon in all his disheveled glory. he looked as tired as you felt, but seeing him lifted a weight off your chest, a small comfort amidst the chaos.

"hey," he greeted, voice rough from sleep, his eyes warming as he took in your bedraggled appearance.

"hi," you smiled awkwardly. "i hope you don't mind, i was hoping we could kind of..."

"i don’t know, talk… i guess."

he blinked, slowly registering your smile. he stepped aside, allowing you in, his presence a silent reassurance.

"mind? are you kidding me? you're soaked. come in." he led you into the living room, closing the door behind you, the warmth of his home a stark contrast to the cold outside.

you shivered again, and he noticed, throwing you a towel. "here, dry off a bit." as you wrapped the towel around your shoulders, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, his gaze seeming to strip you bare. it made you shiver for an entirely different reason, a strange warmth spreading through you.

"i was just about to make coffee. want some?" he asked, gesturing to the kitchen, his voice a gentle invitation.

"no, thank you."

"are you sure? i just brewed a fresh pot," he stands there expectantly, hands resting on his hips. his gaze bores into you, studying you. like he's trying to figure out what's going on in that head of yours. you shift uncomfortably, feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"okay," he eventually drops it. "so, what're you doing here this early?" he gestured, his curiosity evident.

why did you come here? oh right. to distract yourself. and also, because you sort of wanted... to see him. "i just... i had some free time, and i thought..." you trailed off, unable to meet his eyes. this felt so awkward, so vulnerable. he filled the silence with his understanding.

"no need to explain," he said. his voice was casual, but his eyes held concern. he studied you for a moment. "i get it."

the way your hair stuck to your face, the slight trembling in your fingers, the faint tinge of pink on your cheeks. you were vulnerable, and he sensed your deep troubles. he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, his presence a silent support.

"you're shivering," he pointed out, voice concerned. "are you sure you don't want coffee?"

you shook your head. "i don't drink coffee," you cleared your throat. "my parents don't let me."

he quirked a brow, confusion and disbelief washing over his features. but his response held no judgment, just a matter-of-fact tone, his concern evident.

"your parents don't let you?" his voice was calm, yet his words carried a subtle bite.

you nodded. the tension was palpable. the silence that followed was filled with understanding, deeper than words. he saw through you, understood what you weren't saying, his gaze a silent promise.

"you're kidding,” he continued. "what kind of parents don't let their kid drink coffee?"

he said it half-jokingly, but not to tease. he was genuinely surprised at your strict situation, an absurdity to him, his disbelief a reflection of his concern.

"it's just coffee," he muttered. "not like its hard drugs or anything,"

"yeah," you chuckled uncomfortably, the sound a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

he stepped closer, leaning down to get a better look at you, eyes searching your face. "your parents... they don't let you do a lot of things, do they?"

"no," you mumbled, eyes shifting away. "but they say it's what's best for me."

his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as you confirmed his hunch. your relationship with your parents wasn't healthy, a truth that weighed heavily on him.

he scoffed softly, pulling back. "right," he said, voice dripping with cynicism. "because your parents clearly know what's best for you, huh?"

"of course they do," your voice cracks. "they're my parents—“

"so what? being a parent means controlling your kid’s life?" he scoffed. "bullshit."

despite his bluntness, he didn't raise his voice. he wasn't angry, just frustrated. he wanted you to see the fallacy in your logic. it was difficult for him to witness your treatment, his concern a silent plea for you to see the truth.

he paused, gaze softening. he saw how much you held back, the tension in your shoulders, the nervous fiddling with your shirt's hem, each movement a silent cry for help.

"i—" you wanted to say something, but your voice was strained, just quiet squeaks, the words caught in your throat.

his face softened, realizing pushing further wouldn't help. his concern a gentle reminder that he was there for you.

"how about that coffee? i'll even make it decaf, so you don’t get those caffeine jitters," he smiled. "sound good?"

you nodded. "yeah, okay."

satisfied, he headed to the kitchen, returning with a steaming mug. placing it in your hands, he ensured your fingers were securely wrapped around it before letting go. his actions were gentle but firm, fearing you might crumble if too rough, his presence a silent comfort.

"careful," he cautioned. "it's hot."

the rain had stopped, replaced by a gentle patter of raindrops on the windowpane. finally, you broke the silence.

"thank you," you said softly. for the coffee, yes, but for everything else too.

tags: @lottiies @arcane5019 @crowleyco @catnipchannie

[mothmanadjacent]

⚠️PLEASE MIND THE WARNING IN THE BEGINNING ⚠️

Keep yourselves safe 💛

[internutter]

Not being normal about BG3

Not being normal about that little gasping gulp Astarion does after he gets human(oid) blood for what's possibly the first time. How out of breath and astonished he is at how it feels.

Not being normal about how he was wheedling and pleading beforehand, bargaining for "just a drop".

Not being normal about how shocked and surprised he is

Completely not being normal about how the rants about rats and bugs and Cazador puts that little gulp into a whole new perspective.

Especially not being normal about when you find him bear-drunk and he compares human(oid) blood [YOURS!] to a fine wine in contrast to the "plonk" of animal blood. Or the "sewer water" of rats.

...and not being normal about Larion not allowing our Tav's to get blushy about being "a fine wine" for a nice little conversation derailment...

This tiny gasp is that of someone who's never had anything close to a proper meal in two hundred fucking years.

No wonder he wants to hold on to what we players give him with both hands. No wonder he throws all his ploys at you to try to keep you.

And I'm not even out of Act 1.

[dazeddoodles]

Height difference

[naswoop]

Brief interlude between isat fanarts to draw @dekupalace's In Stars and Time au because I am utterly obsessed <-(said while vibrating with excitement)

Lil bonus pencil sketch under the cut

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

CW // Stalker/Implied Stalking

DudeGuy: JUST LIKE ALWAYS, RUNNING FROM YOUR PROBLEMS!

Nightmare: um

DudeGuy: I ONLY BROKE THE WINDOW TO TALK TO YOU!  YOU KNOW HOW-?! AUGHCK

[lunameimei]

"Maybe you're on top now. But sometimes, even after death, you still can't just cut out everything that happened at the bottom."

comic continuation below under cut

TW ‼️ PTSD, Implied abuse (please be careful 🙏)

Important Note (!)

I am not trying to defend or make anyone look better. “Bad experience” may be an explanation, but not an excuse. If you don't like this ship/HC/art, you can always block/ignore my acct/hashtag. This is fine. Do what is good for your health, but don't attack others.

That's all.