#my mom is abusive as fuck but at least she put some pennies in that jar idk..i have some minimal warmth towards her

[abbatoirablaze]

Queens Of the Mayans, Nevaeh, Chapter 3

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: prostitution, underage sex, mentions of smut, unprotected sex, pimps, physical violence, mentions of abuse/child neglect, choking kink, mentions of gun violence/gun threats

"If it really means that much to you, I'll cover," Addy said quickly, helping me put on my leather jacket, "but you better not be out all night. If it doesn't look like you've been asleep by the time she gets back, she'll know. And then you’re on your own, kid."

I hugged my older sister tightly, "I feel like you're the only one that gets me, Addy."

"Fuck, none of us wanted this," she sighed, brushing some hair out of my face, "The only reason mom didn't force you to start last year is because of Silvy."

I sighed, thinking of how my oldest sister had died from AIDS. Addy told me that she made mom promise not to force me into it until at least a year after she died. She was giving her every penny she made for my freedom. But now that she was gone, so was the money. And Tish and my mom were pissed.

Addy hugged me one last time and watched me leave out the fire escape. I made my way down the street, heading towards the warehouse that Raul ran out of. Wanting to give him some warning I opened up my cell phone and clicked on the contact.

It rang once before I could hear music in the background. I panicked and closed it. A few seconds later his name popped up on the screen. I flipped the phone open.

"Eva."

"Johnny."

His name felt so foreign crossing my lips.

"Eva, are you okay?"

The concern in his voice. It made my breath catch in my throat.

"I need to see you."

"Come to my place. I'm just leaving the warehouse now. I'll text you the address."

I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me nodding along, "yeah…yeah, okay."

I hung up and a second later my phone buzzed. His address wasn't too much further away from the apartment complex. I made it there in just a few minutes. Stopping at the front gate, I sat down on the curb.

What would I say?

Would he care?

Would he and Raul take care of it?

"Eva?"

I looked up.

Johnny was wearing a wifebeater and jeans a few sizes too big. His nose was slightly crooked. Like he got in a fight and forgot to have it re-set. He had a few tattoos started on his arms and his chest. His hair was long and tied back with a bandana.

"Johnny."

"Shit," he hissed. He helped me up and pulled me into the biggest, tightest hug. I felt myself melting into his arms. He looked different, but it felt like no time had passed. We stood on the concrete, hugging for a few minutes. Just being wrapped in his arms, wrapped in his scent, I felt safe. He pulled away suddenly, shaking his head and smiling, "shit. Come on. Come in. I haven’t seen you in forever, Eva."

Forgetting my troubles momentarily, I followed as he led me by my hand up to the small house, "this is yours?"

"Rauls...one of the many," he said quickly, unlocking it, "but he lets me live here and pay rent and shit. So, sort of."

I nodded as he led me in and closed the door. There was a couch and some basic furniture, but nothing extravagant. He pulled me down to sit on the couch with him, "Shit. I can't believe it. You're fucking here."

His hand had made it up to my chin, and he was admiring how much I changed. I gave him a soft smile, "I missed you, Johnny."

His own smile faltered, "what's wrong?"

"I uh-."

Suddenly I didn't want to tell him what I'd been going through. I didn't want to tell him how my mom had needlessly verbally abused me at every turn. How she would lock up food or wouldn't let me out of my room for days at a time because I wasn't 'good.'

I was lost in those chocolate eyes.

"Nevaeh."

Suddenly I was crying.

I couldn't hold it back anymore. I broke down in front of him. He pulled me to his chest and let me get it all out. He began cooing at me that everything was okay, and to tell him what was wrong, and he'd fix it, but that only made me cry more.

Once he'd managed to calm me down, we just sat there, staring at one another. Somehow, since that night our paths had strayed so drastically, yet here we both were, gazing at one another.

"Come on, you can tell me anything," he pleaded. His hand cupped my cheek, and I didn't know what to do.

"She's making me do it," I said. It meant to come out in a loud authoritative tone, but it came out in a pitiful whisper, "her, Tish, and Addy are making me do it as of tomorrow."

"The fuck you mean?"

"They're gonna make me a whore, Johnny."

I could see his jaw tighten, "the fuck they are."

"It's not my choice. Silvy can't protect me anymore," I sighed, the tears streaming down my face, "and Addy is covering for me tonight...I just...I had to see you bef-before...."

"Just tell me what to do," he pleaded, taking my hands in his own, "Fuck. We'll run off together. I don't care. We'll j-"

I cut him off. I threw my body against his. His lips were surprisingly soft. His rough hands worked themselves under my jacket, and the buckles clanked on the floor with a thud. It was over just as soon as that metal hitting the wood. Johnny pushed himself away from me, "w-what are you doing?"

"If I'm gonna be a whore I don't want my first time to be with someone I don't know..." I admitted, "and who else knows me better in this world than you?"

"You can't just fucking kiss me," he replied, shaken by the realization of what just happened "We can't fuck, Eva."

"Why not?" I asked, "a second ago you just said you'd run away with me. It's not like it'd be rape."

"Eva..."

"Johnny."

"I-"

"Kiss me again."

"What?"

"Kiss me," I said quickly, "if you don't feel anything, fine...but a second ago, I did. I want to be with you Johnny. "

"Nevaeh, you haven't talked to me in four years."

"I was a kid then," I replied, "I didn't understand it."

"And you suddenly understand it now?"

"yes," I cried, "because I'm forced to finally grow the fuck up. You protected me from that...but these past four years have been hell. I'm not a child anymore."

I took off my top and kicked off my skirt so that I was in my underwear in front of him. But my underwear wasn't what he was paying attention to.

It was the bruises. It was the scars.

"Mi reina."

I could see the pain in his eyes. It was the same look he gave me before killing that teenager all those years ago. It was something I'd become very familiar with the past four years.

Helplessness.

"She's been making me be part of her scams ever since Silvy started getting really sick," I sighed, "this is what happens when I don't go along with it."

He reached out to me, and his hands stopped on the burn marks along my arms, "this?"

"She chains me to the radiator as punishment," I admitted sadly, "she used to have locks on the doors, but I tried running away last year. The cigarette burns are when I tell her no."

I could see the tears in his eyes as they fell to my wrists. He touched them gingerly. "this?"

"That was from after I ran away," I said, not finding the courage to look at him, "I didn't want to be alone anymore."

"Mi reina," he whispered, lifting my chin so that we saw eye to eye, "you're never alone. You always have me."

"Where the hell were you, huh?" she asked. I looked at my mom and then at the ground. She didn't like it when I looked her in the eye. I pulled some money from my bra and handed it to her. She popped her gum, took it, and began counting it, "the fuck is this?"

"The money!"

"I didn't ask for you to be no smart ass," she growled, slapping me hard across the face, "where is all of it?"

"Mom."

"That is all of it, I swear."

"You better not be skimming money like your fuckin sister, "she growled, glaring down at me, “this is fucking it, huh?”

"I'm not, I swear," I cried from the ground, “I-that was it.”

That was a lie.

That's when she noticed the marks the man had left on my arms, "that son of a bitch do something he shouldn't?"

I nodded and Tish came round the corner, handing money off to my mom as well, "she doin here?"

"The fuck you think," mom replied shortly. She counted Tish's money then nodded to herself, "where's Addy?"

Tish made a motion to suggest she had a dick in her mouth at the moment, "probably scoring a little something something from you know who."

Mom rolled her eyes, "that damn good for nothing whore. Go get her. Nevaeh, that john still at the hotel room?"

I nodded, and she grabbed me by my upper arm, dragging me back down around to the hotel. She smirked when she saw the guy had not left yet. She opened the door to see him lounging on the bed, one arm behind his head, the other holding the remote while he browsed channels.

"What the hell is this?"

"You gonna pay this fuckin whore," she said angrily, "I know I gave ya a deal, but she said you did extra stuff."

"So what if I did. I paid for what we talked about."

"No, no no," she laughed, pulling her gun out, "you pay for every fuckin thing you do. You pay for sex, you get it but she ain't givin you no courtesy blowie. You pay for a blowie, she ain't gonna ride your dick for free. Capiche?"

"Listen here la-"

She pulled her gun from her bag and held it out. Then shecocked her gun and pointed it at him, "pay. The fucking. Whore. I ain’t gonna tell you again."

The guy grumbled something about being 'stubborn bitches,' but pulled out his wallet. He'd had a few extra bills in there. He handed my mom one of them, "good?"

"No," she said, clicking her tongue, "you were gonna rip this pussy off. Pay her some fucking respect. You had enough of something in ya to try to cum in her. Pay the bitch more."

He pulled out a second, smaller bill, and she shot the lamp next to him. "What the fuck you crazy bitch?"

"GIVE HER ALL OF IT YOU FUCKING PERVERT!"

He skittishly gave me all the money in his wallet, and mom pushed me out the door, "YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH!"

"And don't you forget it," she growled, still in the hotel room. Quickly I put one of the smaller bills that there were multiples of into the secret layer in my bra, "you buy a Cabrera you fucking pay for a Cabrera. Pendejo!"

She made her way out and slammed the door. She grabbed my upper arm again and quickly pulled me to the alley, "you get your fuckin ass home and put this money in the coffee can. Then right back out here. Understand me?"

"I got school in the morning."

"Fuck school," she hissed, "school won't do anything for ya. You want an education, welcome to the school of hard fucking knocks. You'll learn management, math, sex education, and how to be a badass bitch."

"I do-"

"Fuck you," she hissed. She reached into her bra and pulled out a small roll of money, "put this shit in the coffee cannister and get to fuckin bed then. You're working this weekend since you won't work tonight."

Not wanting to disagree with her I took the money and headed down the road. I hurried to our apartment and put the money where she said, then took out the money I'd skimmed from her as well. I ran to my room and locked the door. Hurrying I went into my closet and dislodged some of the trim from the corner so that I could get into the vent. I pulled out my lockbox and stored the extra money in there.

Then I changed and pulled out my phone. I had a message from Johnny. He was at his place. I hurried up and got changed, then headed over. When I got there, he was sitting on his porch, smoking a blunt. He smiled when he saw me and got up, "hey mami."

I wrapped my arms around him and melted into him. I could feel the playfulness slip from him as he dropped his blunt and wrapped his arms around me, "I need you."

I felt him nod as he let go and we went into his place, wordlessly. He locked the front door then led me to his bedroom. I closed the door behind me, and he looked at me, "you wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head, "no." I pushed him onto his bed and took off my top. Crawling onto his lap, I tangled my hands in his hair and our lips connected. His hands immediately went to my waist and began to slide around to my ass, cupping it. I removed his shirt, and he lifted us up. Standing and flipping us around, I felt the softness of his mattress on my back as I felt him peel the jeans from my hips.

We began removing our clothing at rapid speed until there was nothing separating us. Our kiss didn't break until he lined himself up at my entrance.

"Johnny," I whispered. He looked into my eyes, "I wanna try something."

"Okay?"

I grabbed his hand and placed it low on my throat. He watched as he entered me. I grabbed his hand and closed it a little more around my neck.

"It's okay," I said in a reassuring tone, "harder."

He slammed into me, and instinctively I felt his hand get a little tighter around my throat. I felt myself getting more aroused as I pleaded for him to do it again. A few thrusts later he was buried inside me, and I was cumming from the pleasure he was giving me and the fact that he was playing with my air supply.

He looked at me with love in his eyes as he came, moaning my name.

Chapter 4

[inactive-shroomiehomie]

Gone

Warnings: Major Character Death, looooots of angst, graphic descriptions, gun use, established relationship

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Summary: You find yourself in a hostage situation with a gun pointed straight at you.

Word Count: 3546

A/N: Please don't hurt me ! This killed my soul to write but I felt in the mood to write some angst. (gif not mine) I’m not crying you are.

It had been a little after midnight when you got the call from Amanda. Your suspect, Markus Bramble, in a child/spousal abuse case had pulled a gun on the mother and their two suspects at the hotel they were hiding in. Other guests had heard the gunshots and started to call 9-1-1. You tried your hardest not to wake Rafael as you got your clothes from the closet. You didn’t care to change your shirt since it was a t-shirt anyway. You grabbed your gun and badge and gave your loving fiancé a tender kiss on the back of his shoulder before bolting out of the house.

With your lights on, it didn’t take you long to arrive on the scene. It would have been a lot sooner if people would learn to pull over for an emergency vehicle, but that’s New York for you. You parked your car behind a mobile unit with your lights on and ran to find the team. SWAT, hostage negotiation, and even members of 1PP were on scene. Soon enough you spotted Carisi in the chaos. You flashed your badge to the uniform at the barrier and ran to him.

“Sonny!” You called, “Sonny, what’s the situation here?” When you finally got to him, you noticed Amanda and Fin were with him too. “Where’s Olivia?”

“Over there with the hostage negotiator.” Fin answered, shoving his finger behind him before handing you a vest. You nodded your head at him in thanks as you put it on.

“Markus tracked down his wife and kids. We have confirmed gunshots, but no one can get an eye on the room so we don’t know if anyone’s hurt.”

“And, he won’t answer the landline to the room either. So Liv is trying to convince them to let us go in there.” Amanda added.

“Fuck,” You cursed hands on your hips. “You don’t think he’d shoot his kids, would you?”

No one answered your question. Just a lot of dreadful looks. After a bit, Olivia finally came back over to you all. “We have- Great, (L/N) you made it.” You gave a tight-lipped smile to her before she continued, “Alright, we have the all-clear to go in. Now, (L/N), you were the lead on this case. You, Carisi, and Rollins will be heading in while Fin and I stay out here to control things from the outside.”

“What room?” You asked, taking your gun out of its holster.

“2E. Please remember,” Olivia started as the three of you prepared to head in, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

In single file formation, the three of you ran up the stairs to the right floor. Your heart was racing from a mix of adrenaline and not having enough sleep. You had your gun drawn at your side as you opened the stairwell door. You waved Sonny and Amanda to go ahead of you and sweep the rooms before your victims’. They ended up finding a couple of random civilians and quickly rushed them into the stairwell before pushing forward. When you came to the room, Amanda and you went to one side of the door frame while Sonny went to the other.

You gently hit against the door to alert Markus that you were outside.

“WHO IS IT?” He screamed, followed by barely audible whimpers.

“Markus, it’s Detective (Y/N) (L/N) from Special Victims, remember me?”

There was a slight pause and then a bullet burst through the wood of the door, causing splinters to fly everywhere. Amanda quickly radioed the team outside what happened and to hold.

“GO-GO AWAY!”

You took a couple of deep breathes and looked to your partners to check on them.

“Can’t do that, Markus. You got a gun and your family in there. Can you at least tell me if everyone’s okay?”

“Everyone’s fine damnit, now just FUCK off.” Markus paused, “I just wanna be left alone with my family. I want my family back.”

“Markus, you know, your kids are probably scared out of their minds right now. Now, why don’t you just send them out okay? Right now they see their daddy with a gun pointed at mommy and they don’t know what to think.”

There’s silence, nothing but the sound of soft sobbing coming from the other side of the door, His wife.

“C’mon Markus!” Carisi called out, “You give us somethin’, we give you somethin’.”

Son of a bitch.

“Who’s that?!” Markus yelled, you could hear a bunch of footsteps behind the door.

You sighed, “Detective Carisi. I have Detective Rollins out here as well.”

He lets out an aggravated yell, causing his children to let out yelps of fear. Another moment of silence.

“I send out my kids, you get them out of here. If I talk to anyone, it’s gonna be you. You’re the ONLY ONE who understood me.”

Sonny shook his head at you, mouthing ‘No’ and ‘Don’t’ You were half tempted to listen to him.

“Alright. Alright. Can you send out the kiddos first please, Markus?”

There was a lot of shuffling from behind the door before a little boy and girl stepped carefully from behind it, one by one. Immediately Sonny and Amanda holstered their guns and lead them down the hall. Amanda stopped for a moment and looked at you, “You better know what you’re doing. We’ll be in the stairwell.” You brushed her shoulder with your hand and they sped off with the kids.

“Markus, Markus they’re all gone now, Now can we talk about why you’re here?”

“I just...I just want my old life back! I don’t remember hurting my family! I just DON’T” Markus was crying now.

“Markus, you’re sick. You have a dissociative disorder and you need help. I’m sure your family will understand-”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!”

“Markus, I never said you were, okay? Your sick.”

Markus sobbed in the room, you chewed on your lip. You were running yourself into a dead end.

“Markus. Can you let your wife go for me?”

“Why? First my kids now her?! What more do you people want from me?”

“I want everyone to be able to see tomorrow. Even you. The second anyone downstairs hears a gunshot- mine or yours- they’re coming up here. I know you don’t want any of that to happen do you?”

“Markus please, liste-”

There was a loud smack followed by a thud.

“Damnit,” You whispered, “Take me, Markus. If you want everything to go your way, you’ll want to have a better bargaining chip than your wife, yeah?”

Markus started to talk to himself in the room. Soon, you heard his wife yelp and the door flung open. He threw her into the hallway and she rolled to the ground. You waved an empty hand at her, signaling for her to go. She didn’t even hesitate at your order, running as best as she could to freedom.

Markus left the door open for you to walk in. “Leave your gun out there. Vest too.” He mumbled. Sniffle.

You thought back to Olivia and Amanda’s words. Before you took your vest off, you looked down to the ring on your left hand, you pressed your lips to it, and walked in. Now free of protection, Markus aimed his pistol at you from across the room. Your arms were raised in the air, proving you didn’t have anything on you. He looked horrible. Hair stuck to his face from the sweat, his face puffy and red, and his clothes looked like he took them from a dumpster.

“Okay. Okay, it’s just me and you now, okay?”

He nodded a bit, not wanting to look directly at you.

“If I’m sick... Why punish me? Huh?” Markus wiped the tears and snot from his face, “Why take my family away and HIDE THEM from ME?!”

“Didn’t you see the bruises all over them? The cuts?”

“THAT WASN’T ME!” He sobbed, gun wavering in his hand. You flinched.

“I know!” You yelled back, “I know that wasn’t you, Markus!” You took a couple of steps forward.

“S-Stay back..!” Markus lurched forward, pointing his gun more steadily at you.

“I know you wouldn’t willingly hurt them.” You continued, taking a few more shaky steps. “I know what happened to you as a child.”

“NO!” More sobs. He brought both hands to his head and started smacking, but realized his mistake and stuttered the gun back in its place.

“How your Mom would be at work all night... How she would leave you with your dad... Markus the things he did to you are things no child should ever have to experience...”

Markus couldn’t even respond to you at this point with how hysterical he was. You finally got right in front of him. You carefully put your arms down and put your left hand out to him.

“Markus... Give me the gun.”

He shook his head as he stared at the floor.

“Markus...”

He started to raise his head but caught sight of your hand. He grabbed hold of it and flipped it over. His body was trembling, but he slowly stopped his sobs. Your breath caught in your throat as he took your hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, glancing between him and you.

Markus gave a soft sarcastic chuckle, finally bringing himself to you. “You’re married? Aren’t you?”

“I-I’m engaged.”

“So... you-you get to have your happily ever after..” Markus sniffed hard, his demeanor turning more angry than sad. “While I get to rot... In the FUCKIN’ looney bin?!”

He tossed your hand aside harshly, throwing you off your balance.

“Markus, wait. Please, just put the gun down.” You begged, putting your hands back up like before.

“I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

“Markus, no-”

Everything froze for you. Your ears were ringing and your chest felt like it was a set ablaze. It started getting harder to breathe and your mouth tasted like old pennies. Your brought your hand to your chest and felt around before bringing it up to eye level. Blood. You started to lose your balance and stuttered backward, falling flat on your ass before landing against some piece of furniture.

You took in slow heavy breaths, your vision starting to get spotty. There was another loud ring and you saw Markus fall to the floor, almost in slow motion. You blinked and suddenly Sonny and Amanda were both at your side. They were yelling stuff at you, but your brain couldn’t get enough oxygen to focus on them.

“’ Man...’Manda...” You choked out, crimson red spilling past your lips.

Although your vision was blurred, you could tell Amanda was sobbing. Suddenly it all hit you. You finally realized what happen. You started shaking your head back and forth as best as you could.

“No-No..” You rasped, “Raf...”

Suddenly your eyelids began to grow heavy. You tried your best to keep them open, but tears were burning your eyes and you couldn’t hold back much longer. Before the world went cold, you felt Carisi smack you across the face and pleaded for you to stay awake.

-

Rafael grumbled as he rolled over in bed. He wanted so badly to ignore his phone ringing and to just snuggle you closer to him. He reached out for you in bed, only to open his eyes and see that your side of the bed was empty. He finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his phone off of the nightstand, not caring that he just ripped it off the charger.

Liv 22 missed calls

Liv Rafa, answer me.

Liv RAFAEL

Liv It’s (Y/N), something’s happened. NOW ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE

Rafael’s blood ran cold. Thankfully he wasn’t wearing anything other than boxers, because he would have run out in his pajamas. He threw on an old shirt and sweatpants, slid on his house shoes, and dialed Olivia as he ran out the door.

His conversation with Olivia was short. He kept fumbling over his words trying to find out what happened to you. But when Olivia finally explained the situation he almost crashed his car.

“She’s at Mercy General, Rafa.” Olivia’s voice was soft and strained. She’d clearly been crying.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Rafael had no idea how well he was driving, but damnit he was going to get to the hospital. You were going to get married soon and you weren’t dying on him until both of you were well into your 80′s.

He swung into the parking lot and parked in a fire lane. He didn’t have time to think about parking his fucking car with you on the brink of death. Olivia met him in the lobby to take him up to where you were. On a normal day, she would comment on his outfit.

“How is she? What’s going on?” Rafael spat out, trying to keep his volume and tears down.

“It’s...” Olivia paused, pressing her hand against her mouth gently, “She’s lost a lot of blood. Sonny is donating right now but they don’t know if it’s going to be enough.”

“She’s going to pull through. She’s strong. She’s stubborn as hell, okay, (Y/N) will make it.”

Olivia simply nodded. She could see how torn her friend was and didn’t have the heart to make it any worse. She wrapped an arm around Rafael’s shoulders and led him into the waiting room. The room was full of officers- in and out of uniform- and others from the precinct. Fin was in the corner with Amanda, trying to console her and calm her down.

Rafael choked back a cry when he saw her shirt was covered in blood. Fin gave him a sympathetic look before wrapping his jacket around her shoulders to block his view.

“(Y/N)’s in surgery right now. Why don’t we sit down and wait for the doctor. Okay?” Olivia had to force him to move from where he had planted himself and into a chair. She sat in the one right next to him.

“Shit, I’ve got to call my mother.” He cursed, jerking right back up out of his chair and down the hall to get some quiet. He needed to be vulnerable right now and if anyone had to see or hear that, it would be his mother.

Hours passed by and there was still no word about your condition. Olivia took Amanda home with Fin to change and for them to check on their children. Sonny stayed back to keep an eye on Rafael, even though his mother was there. But she was asleep on his shoulder.

Rafael looked at his phone. Almost five in the goddamn morning and they still couldn’t tell him whether you were alive or not. Sonny noticed how frustrated he was becoming and took a seat beside him. Rafael didn’t even acknowledge him, but he mentally thanked the law student for it. They sat there in comfortable silence for a while.

“I gave ‘em a lot of blood, Rafael.” Sonny started before looking over to the older male, “I kept yelling at ‘em to take more, and eventually they had to force me out. Said I can come back in later if they needed it.”

Rafael’s head snapped over to Sonny at the sound of his name. He just gave a curt nod and patted Sonny’s forearm.

“You did all you could. Thank you.”

Sonny pressed his lips together, “Hey, why don’t you rest? I’ll wake you up when the doctors come over.”

Rafael shook his head, “Not a chance. I get woken out of bed only to find out my soon to be wife is possibly on her death bed- no way I’m going back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Sonny spoke softly, returning the same action that Rafael did to him moments before.

Rafael looked around the room. Most of the uniformed officers had left, while some others lingered behind. Chief Dodds had arrived earlier and had yet to make his way to Rafael. That man should know more than anyone about the pain he’s feeling right now.

Olivia suddenly rounded the corner, now wearing a more comfortable outfit and without Amanda. She spotted Rafael and took the seat in front of him. He pointed behind him, but Olivia understood.

“She couldn’t come back. ‘Manda needed some time with her family. Fin stayed behind to keep an eye on her.”

“‘S fine.” He mumbled, nodding his head with a quick flash of a smile.

There was a small creak down the hall that drew Rafael back to the situation. He focused his vision on that one area until he saw a doctor come around the corner in surgical scrubs.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

Rafael gently woke his mother before standing, his friends joining them as they quickly made their way over to the doctor with Rafael in lead.

“I-I’m her fiance, what’s going on? Is (Y/N) okay?” His mother slid her hand into his for comfort, squeezing as hard as she could.

The doctor sighed and Rafael wanted to vomit. “She’s, uh, not in good condition. We got all we could of the bullet out but it pierced her lungs and did a lot of other internal damage. All we can do now is... make her comfortable. You can see her if you’d like.”

Rafael pressed his fist against his lips tightly, letting his tears fall. If he spoke, he would just start screaming and never stop. His mother thanked the doctor before wrapping her arms around her son.

“Rafi, mijo, c’mon. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”

He nodded silently. He felt Sonny put a hand on his back for a moment before withdrawing it. Everyone walked down to your room. Even though he was your husband to be, Rafael couldn’t walk into your room first. He waited for his friends to walk in first before he and his mother did.

He had to force himself to keep standing at the sight of you. Your skin was ghostly pale and the skin all-around your neck was bruised. From the chest down you were wrapped up in gauze and bandages like a damn mummy. They even had a breathing tube sticking out of your throat due to blockages.

Olivia and Sonny stood on the side of your bed opposite the door so Rafael can get right there with you. He reached out to touch your skin and he flinched at how cold your skin felt.

Lucia couldn’t bear to see her son like this anymore, “Olivia, Sonny, why don’t we give them a moment.”

They agreed, following her to the door. “I’ll pay for you some breakfast, Mrs. Barba.” Sonny offered, following the two women out the door.

When the door clicked shut, Rafael slid his hand into yours and squeezed gently. He shook his head from side to side as tears fell, trying to put on his best smile for you. One you wouldn’t ever see again.

“Carisi. Always got food on the mind.” He laughed weakly, pressing his lips against your knuckles.

Rafael lost it right there. Hard, rough sobs shook his body. He tried to be as quiet as he could but that was impossible.

“Why..” He asked your almost lifeless body, the only thing indicating your life being a few steady beats, “Why did you have to play hero, Carino? You’re-” Hiccup “You’re not fucking Superman.”

He sat down in the chair next to your bed and continued to sob. If you could hear him in your condition, you would be crying along with him. How dare you be so stupid? You were told twice, twice, to not do that. But to you, that family was safe.

He forced himself to stand up, not once letting go of your hand as he pressed a gentle kiss on your bruise colored lips.

One Week Later

For the funeral, Rafael made sure you were in your favorite outfit. A nice (F/C) pouf dress with matching flats. He had to fight to get you to not be buried in your uniform. It was placed just below your feet along with your wedding dress and veil. Your hair had been slicked back and lightly curled and they gave you a natural make-up look with rosy lips. Rafael almost broke down again with how stunning you looked. Almost how you looked on your first date with him.

He had insisted on taking you out for breakfast and you wore a cute plaid tank top with jean shorts. You didn’t even look like you worked for the NYPD, but he didn’t care. He fell in love with you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

After the funeral, the group stayed back to honor you privately. Amanda had her girls dressed up and Olivia did the same for Noah. Noah let go of Olivia’s hand though to hug Rafael.

“Don’t cry, Uncle Rafa. It’s okay.”

Rafael smiled fondly at Noah’s sweet, innocent words. He wiped his eyes with a tissue and looked down at Noah. He patted Noah on the back and he went back to Olivia. Rafael pressed a kiss to his wedding ring he had made and then laid his hand on your coffin. A weak smile snuck onto his face before he whispered,

“Te quiero mucho, (Y/N)....Barba.”

[plasticnightmaredoll]

Ok, so I had to do this after reading @justasimplesinner ‘s absolutely adorable and precious h/cs for Arkham Knight Riddler meeting his s/o’s family for the first time. I mean, AK!Eddie being happy? Having some sort of family? It hits me right in the feels 😭

But I was inspired to write something similar for Telltale Riddler and his s/o but with a twist. I mean, it’s already going to be quite different considering how Telltale Riddler is, but I’m taking things a little further and getting a bit personal. Since I self-ship with him, I figured, why not turn these h/cs into self-insert ones? 

Basically, Telltale Riddler meeting my family for the first time on Christmas. 

The h/cs will reflect what the reality of my family is like but I won’t get, like, too personal. Y’all don’t need to know everything.

Pre-headcanons warnings to be fair: 

There is a little but of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s a little bit spicy. 

These are self-insert headcanons, not reader-insert ones

This is an age-gap pairing since I’m 33 years old and Telltale Riddler is 60 years old.

Anyway, let’s head on into these h/cs for Telltale Riddler meeting my folks for the first time (and that seems awkward as hell to write but hey, I’m fictosexual so....🤷‍♀️)

There is a little bit of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s definitely a little spicy.  

It’s the first Christmas spent with Eddie since becoming a couple, and it’s also kind of an awkward time because family, you know? And, well, my parents don’t know I’m dating anyone...let alone THE Riddler. 

It’s going to be a challenge getting them to accept me dating someone nearly twice my age (I’m 33 and Edward’s 60, but damn, did he age like fine wine or what?) But revealing that it’s the goddamn Riddler? 

So, yeah, I’m freaking out but I also realize that I have to tell them eventually because it’s only fair, for one, and keeping it a secret for a long time would just make things worse if -- or more realistically, when -- my parents found out on their own. 

Plus, I’m not ashamed or afraid to date Edward. He treats me much differently than he treats most other people, and I want my parents to know that, yeah, he’s Riddler, a criminal mastermind but honestly, he treats me better than any guy has and I’m actually happy.

Edward isn’t nervous but he’s concerned because he doesn’t want to complicate things between my parents and me, doesn’t want to bring unnecessary drama and angst into my life. He can handle people disliking him -- hating him -- but he doesn’t want the only person he’s ever truly cared for to have a damaged relationship with her family because of him.

But we discuss it and decide it’s better to just go ahead and do it. Rip off the band aid and get the pain out of the way as fast as possible, so to speak. Whatever happens, happens, and hopefully it’s nothing (too) upsetting.

I call my parents and tell them I’m coming to visit for Christmas, and I reveal -- while my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding from the anxiety consuming me -- that I want to bring my boyfriend.

Oh, I have a boyfriend? For how long? How did we meet? What’s he like? What’s his name? Why the wait to tell them about him?

I know it wouldn’t go over well to just show up at my parents home hanging off of the goddamn Riddler’s arm, like, “Oh, hey, my boyfriend is a criminal genius, don’t ya know?”

So, I approach telling them over the phone the truth slowly, cautiously. I say his name is Edward and we met kind of by accident and we’ve been dating for a good portion of the year. It’s my first Christmas with him, actually.

Wait, it’s been that long and I never told my them?! What the hell?!

Needless to say, they are baffled and also concerned about this news. 

I explain the awkward but less, uh, shocking news that he is an older man, and I was worried they’d be upset about that. They ask how old Edward is and I hesitate, wondering if I should lie and say he’s, like, in his early 50s because he could easily pass for that age. Hell, even I thought he was in his early 50s (or even very late 40s) when I first met him. 

However, honesty is the best policy, and this is not even the “bad” news yet. 

I say that he just turned 60 years old this year in a calm, cool, casual tone, like I’m talking about the weather and not revealing to my parents that I’m dating a guy who is my dad’s age.

There is silence and I internally panic because if they’re angered or appalled by this, they’re not going to handle finding out who Edward is well at all.

They are surprised, a little worried for my wellbeing because they think Edward’s some perverted Sugar Daddy to me. They don’t say it like that but it’s heavily implied.

I explain that’s not the case at all, that he’s actually very sweet towards me. 

My folks decide to go along with this bit of news because hey, I’m 33 years old. I’m an adult. I can date an older man if I want.

Then comes the “fun” part, which is revealing to them what Edward does for a living.

I laugh nervously, and Edward, who has been patiently sitting beside me on the couch, realizes what I’m about to tell my parents. He watches me closely, hoping this doesn’t turn into a disaster for my sake.

“Yeah, so, Edward, yeah...Edward is...well, he’s, um...Well, he’s, he’s a genius. Like a tech genius, great with electrical engineering, computers. And uh, his job, his profession, his, um, career? Yeah, that’s...well, he’s...”

I take a deep breath and prepare for the worst.

“He’s The Riddler, one of Gotham’s...elite....masterminds.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is so terrifying that I feel like I’m going to faint from how anxious I am. Edward places a hand on my knee as a means of comfort, still wanting to give me some space to breathe and calm down. 

My parents aren’t...thrilled, to say the least. I’m dating a fucking criminal mastermind?! I’m dating RIDDLER? THE RIDDLER? What the goddamn fresh hell is this?!

I start crying because I’m so stressed about this, and Edward moves closer so he can put his arm around me. He feels bad, he really does, and it shows in his troubled expression, but there’s not much he can do. It’s not like we can take this back and say, “Oh, hey, just kidding!” No, this was the truth and now we were dealing with the consequences.

I manage to get my parents to calm down long enough so I can get a word in. I get up off the couch and walk to another room to speak to them alone. 

I tell them I know it’s not the most pleasant news to hear, and I know it seems awful, but it’s the first time I have been with a man and he’s treated me well. Like, really well. It’s not just the nice gifts or expensive dinners. Edward does genuinely care about me. I don’t feel like a “booty call,” he doesn’t ignore me, he doesn’t threaten me, he’s never abused me and never will. He’s not the same person with me as he is with some other people. I wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.

It takes some more convincing, but once I get it through to my parents that yes, I’m actually happy and yes, I’m safe and yes, Edward is a very doting boyfriend, they decide to meet him at Christmas. I know they will still have concerns and may be a bit cold to Edward at first, but I hope they would see what I see.

The day arrives and I’m a nervous wreck. Edward is worried for me. He  assures me that everything will be ok, and I want to believe but I’m still scared.

Deep down, he thinks maybe dating me is a bad idea -- not because he doesn’t love me but because he feels like he could damage my relationship with my parents. However, he doesn’t bring this up as he doesn’t want me to be even more upset than I already am.

Edward had brought with him some gifts for my parents and my grandma (she was staying with them, too). He brought the most most beautiful bouquet of flowers and a necklace for my grandma, a very lovely diamond bracelet for my mom, and a high-quality (aka expensive) watch for my dad.

I had to dress to impress and by that, dress in things Edward had given me to give my parents more visual proof that he was taking care of me. But I was careful not to overdo it. I didn’t want my parents to think I was his piece of...eye candy.

When we arrive, my parents greet us at the door, giving me a much warmer welcome than they give to Edward. They’re not rude to him, but they look uneasy, even a little irritated. 

Edward, being the charming bastard he is, keeps his calm and showcases his gentlemanly side. It’s genuine because he IS quite the gentleman as I have learned, but I don’t know if it will be enough to convince my parents to accept him.

They appreciate the gifts, seem a little caught off guard by the pricey but very lovely things Edward bought them. They also notice I’m wearing a dress that cost a pretty penny and jewelry just as extravagant. But none of it’s gaudy. 

Basically, I don’t look like Riddler’s trophy girlfriend.

Edward is courteous and charming, which seems to help my mom relax a bit. My dad still looks rather tense, though.

My grandma, being 90 and having frequent issues with memory, doesn’t remember who Edward actually is. My parents told her but she had forgotten and it was probably for the best. 

My grandma is impressed with Edward, finds him to be a proper, handsome gentleman type. She also was very grateful for the gifts he brought her.

Edward is very patient with my grandma, which I know isn’t easy due to her memory problems. But he is very relaxed, behaving pretty much like he does around me.

We all have dinner and chat, and the tension in the air lightens. My parents even laugh at a few humorous comments from Edward. He thanks my parents for allowing him to visit and for the wonderful dinner, and offers to help my parents clean up. 

Good. This gives my parents time alone with Edward which, as nerve-wracking as it is for me, is something that needs to happen. They need a one-on-one with my boyfriend...and hopefully it didn’t turn into a mess.

I stay with my grandma and act like everything’s fine as I anxiously wait to find out what my parents will ultimately think of Edward.

They are upfront with him once they’re alone with him, asking him if he’s putting up some kind of act or if this is all really him. They also ask if he genuinely cares for me or if he’s just using me because I’m “young and pretty.” They don’t hide their feelings, my parents, and they are concerned for my safety and happiness above all else. They NEED to know that Edward is good to me despite being Riddler. They can’t tell me who to be with but it would put their mind at ease if they were assured I was in good hands.

Edward is honest with them. He isn’t putting on a front. He is gentlemanly by nature with people he likes and respects, and he’s a bit old-fashioned in some ways anyway due to his age. He doesn’t fake his feelings for anyone, and while he does want my parents to accept him as my boyfriend, he knows it’s not an easy choice. He also tells them they have every right to reject him, and he won’t hold a grudge towards them about it if they do. 

If anything, he’s earned scorn more than kindness due to how he’s lived his life, and that’s fair. He accepts that.

But then he explains that no, I am not eye candy for him. He’s not a play boy looking for a “good time.” He’s serious about me and feels things towards me he’s never felt--never expected to feel. I’m the one thing in his dark and violent life that is bright and soothing, even though he’s done nothing in his life to deserve such a sweet and caring partner.

He tells them that I’m always protected and cared for, and he has made arrangements to ensure I’m still protected and cared for if -- or more realistically, when something happens to him. 

Being Riddler’s girlfriend has its perks. No one messes with me, that’s for sure, because they know I’m important to him, and they know what he is willing to do to keep me safe.

As scary as that is to hear, my parents find some relief in that. Yes, Edward is The Riddler, a criminal mastermind who strikes fear into many. However, he takes care of what is precious to him -- and not much is precious to him. Actually, nothing is save for me. I bring him a lot of joy and much-needed peace, and he’d give his life to protect me. 

I deserve to be happy, he tells my parents, because I am a good person unlike him, and he works hard to make sure I know I’m loved and cared for, that I’m good enough and that he has no intentions of leaving me or cheating on me for someone else.

Edward also assures my parents that, should they need anything, he can provide. Of course, he won’t force his help on them but he won’t ever turn them away either. He looks out for those that mean a lot to me, who are close to me, regardless of who they are and how they feel about him. That is a promise he makes to my parents, too.

He also comments on how they have been taking care of my grandma pretty much on their own for a couple years now, and he knows from what he has observed and from things I’ve told him that it is a very exhausting duty. It’s an admirable one, though, for sure, and he respects my parents for being good people. 

He sees where I get my kind nature, he tells them.

He says that he can pay for live-in help for them, like a live-in nurse, someone who can help take care of my grandma and let my parents have a break every now and again. Also, should she need anything that isn’t covered by her insurance, he will cover the costs.

Same goes for my parents, who aren’t the healthiest people in their old age (Edward has the regenerative properties of the LOTUS virus on his side -- they don’t). He doesn’t tell them that obviously, that they’re unhealthy, but he says should they need any expenses covered for treatments, medication, etc., he can provide.

Because he is THAT serious about me.

My parents are, to say the least, much more confident in my relationship with Edward now that they’ve talked with him one on one. They give him their blessing, so to speak, to be my boyfriend, and appreciate his generosity. They do ask for help with live-in aid for my grandma, and Edward says pick who they want and he’ll pay whatever insurance won’t cover. 

I am beyond relieved that my parents have decided to accept Edward, and am so grateful to him for offering his help to them...because they need it and deserve it.

He tells me it’s no trouble at all, that whatever makes me happy makes him happy, and he’s more than willing to aid those that are important to me.

Edward and I stay over Christmas Eve so we can spend more time with my family on Christmas Day. We get the guest room which has a small bed, so we’re “forced” to get close.

Of course, I can’t resist tempting him even now, and he doesn’t turn me down. I do warn him that we have to be careful because, hey, my folks are here in this house and I’m not the quietest lover.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he tells me with a smirk. “I came prepared for any eventuality.”

Needless to say, I need to be gagged because Edward makes sure I have a Merry Fucking Christmas -- literally -- and also makes sure I know how much he both loves and desires me.

We decide to leave out the whole Dom/Sub aspect of our relationship in regards to my parents. 

We also don’t tell them about how I call Edward, “Daddy” almost any other time 👀👀👀👀💦💦💦💦💦💦

My mom also refuses to believe he’s 60 years old because he’s so good-looking  😄

[itstheelvenjedi]

So, I have a post in my drafts that struck a cord with me the other day, but in the interest of not hijacking that person’s post I felt it best to make my own to talk about things.

In essence, the post talked (very rightfully) about how you shouldn’t judge someone who says they don’t like their mother, and how unhelpful and downright harmful it is to assume that just because someone is nice to you it means they’re a good parent to their kids. This post talks about mothers specifically as that’s my experience but yes this can apply to any other parental/family figure.

Big dead dove do not eat warning for this, I’m not gonna describe things in detail but here’s the trigger warnings for stuff mentioned: Trigger Warnings: Abuse, Abusive parents, Animal neglect, gaslighting, emotional manipulation,  financial abuse, suicide

Tl; dr: don’t assume that everyone’s parents are loving, and please stop automatically assuming a child/teen etc. is being “difficult” if they say negative things about their parents. Yes, it can just be a teenage strop, but not always, and treating these things as being exactly the same can be very harmful.

At the risk of going full “edgelord” here, in personal experience this is SO true. And the whole “well it’s your mother, you have to love her she gave birth to you!!” and “I can’t imagine hating my mom that’s so rude/ungrateful/disrespectful” rhetoric is actually very harmful. People that told me those things every time I tried to open up about my abuse were the reason that it took me nearly 13 years to even acknowledge that it was abuse. Because any criticism of her horrendous treatment of me (without going into horrendous details lets say I had no control over any aspect of my life under her roof even after I was legally an adult, gaslighting, controlling every decision I was ever “allowed” (read: co-erced) to make including which friends/family members I was and wasn’t allowed to bond with etc., emotional and financial abuse and a very fucked up suicide pact - thank fuck I had at least one relative to get me outta that one) was dismissed as me being a “difficult, ungrateful child” who needed to “be thankful for the effort my mother put in to raise me”....

Even though she didn’t raise me. The only positive experiences I have of my childhood are with my grandparents (who my mom palmed me off to the first chance she got) and my father, who certainly helped as much as they were able to but when it came to the “mom” side of things, I pretty much raised myself. I learned to budget and pay bills by the time I was 12, I learned to provide food for not only myself but my sister and our pets too because my mom would be incredibly excited to get a pet for all of 6 months (this still hasn’t changed, sadly, I do what I can to help the animals when I can) and then stop putting in the effort once it got “boring” so my dad and I would have to do it, etc. etc.

And yet when I tried to talk to other people, even grown ass adults, about how much I was struggling and how little help I was getting (I could also go on a rant about my experience with mental health care here in the UK but that would be a whole post in itself. Summary: I learnt some useful things that I still use to this day, but it’s lacking. A lot. Of things.) to cope with my rapidly spiralling mental health as a result was met with “don’t say you hate her, she’s your mother” and “she loves you and is trying her best, you shouldn’t give her such a hard time” and so on. And for a very long time I did believe those things. I believed it was all my fault and if I was just “better” or “less difficult” then she’d stop calling me names, she’d actually take interest in things I had to say instead of trying to make every conversation about her and how terrible her life is, if I “helped out more” then she’d stop taking every penny I earned away from me.

I thought that all of these horrible things that were being done to me were done out of “love” and that by trying to tell people about it and ask for help, I was being “an ungrateful bitch”.

It wasn’t until I left that house and went to college and got a different support system (including the two therapists that actually did help me properly) that could identify the things I was talking about as abuse that I could even take steps to deal with it & start recovering at all. If it hadn’t been for the relative, my girlfriend and the friends that I had made helping me through it all on that fateful year in 2017, I probably never would have gotten out at all.

Now, I’m not saying that people who say those sentences are deliberately meaning for it to be harmful to the person, in fact quite the opposite!

I think a lot of people who come out with statements like that genuinely do mean well, but the problem is if you haven’t experienced that sort of mistreatment and abuse (and again, this is not a personal attack, just an observation!) it’s very very hard to imagine what it might be like. If you’ve always had a loving and supportive mother, it’s incredibly difficult to imagine that there may be moms out there that are quite terrible.

You might not understand what it feels like to have a parent that doesn’t teach you love, compassion and independance; but instead teaches you helplessness, fear, and blind complacency.

You might not understand what it feels like to have a parent that does not say it because they mean it, but instead uses “I love you” (and/or “I thought you loved me!! D:”) like a weapon.

You might not understand that the hardest thing for us to do is actually detach ourselves from that toxic, codependant idea of “love”, or how long it takes sometimes to finally get to that point.

You might not understand the struggle, and from the bottom of my heart I do really hope that you never have to understand it, but just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not happening.

Please let’s stop making “they’re your (relative), you have to love them!” an automatic response to criticism or negative comments about someone’s parent/relative. You never know the reason behind it and you may be doing more harm than you think.

[fairytellerxo]

Gonna drop a little Coco Cruz on your heads while I sort through drafts and docs for the best Angel x Nicole stuff. This was supposed to start a story but it just ended up being a one off of Coco reuniting with an old friend.

Coco sat on the edge of the dock, his feet swaying back and forth as he took another drag of his cigarette. He had needed and craved for an escape from the chaos that his club was currently in. Things were shifting and changing and he needed to reset, to recalibrate and get his mental health back in line. Well as best as he could anyway.

That’s why he had taken off on his bike, headed straight to the place he used to spend hours as a teenager. Where he’d escape from his shitty mom and home life. He’d just sit and be with himself, his thoughts slowing down and relaxation rolling over him. Then things got interesting when he showed up to his spot and there was someone occupying the space.

He didn’t make a scene, didn’t make a fuss, he just sat down and enjoyed the silence and the presence of her. She wouldn’t say much, even when he would try to strike up conversation. She was just as damaged as he was. She’d show up, bloody and bruised on occasion. He figured an abusive boyfriend but he was wrong, it had been an abusive father.

That was years before he started to make mistakes of his own. He had shown up, found her sitting there and he confessed his shit. She held his hand while he cried and worked through it. They had become the best of friends and eventually it turned into more before he fucked it up and sent her fleeing town, never to be heard or seen from again. Now as an adult, sitting in his spot, their spot, he wondered where she was and what she was doing. She had to be better than what he was.

“Wow, never thought I’d come across you ever again.” The voice startled Coco momentarily. “Thought you were long gone from our days of dock sitting.”

“I thought the same,” He stubbed out his cigarette before scooting over slightly. “You still live in town?”

“Oh hell no,” She laughed as she lowered herself down next to him. “I made it out, made something of myself. Just like I told you I would. I’m back here because we’re laying my dad to rest. He just passed away. From stupidity and not natural causes.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and grinned. “Johnny Cruz.”

“Penielle Montenegro,” He flashed her a brief grin before turning his attention back to the view. “It’s been awhile Penny. You got any kids?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do. That’s a hell of a question to ask during a mini reunion.” She chuckled. “Did you add any more kids to your roster? I know you had the one while in jail.”

“I got a total of three,” He wiggled his fingers. “I see the oldest one, Leticia. She wanted to get to know me. We’re trying to make it work. My mom had adopted her, she knew me as her brother until my mom told her the truth out of spite. She’s a teenager and shit. Kind of an outcast but whatever, she’s happy.”

She smiled as she bumped against him. “Like father like daughter.” She shrugged. “I got a son and a daughter. My son is a fucking shithead, always has some slick shit to say. He’s fifteen and I want to strangle him, my daughter, she’s six and thinks I am some Queen.”

“He’s fifteen? Yeah?” He nodded slowly. “I told you to do better and be better. You kept the kid?”

“I did,” She nodded slowly. “Got my shit together, got a degree and I’m in love with my career. I make good money and I even married up.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Look, these are my babies, my heart. We didn’t work out because you didn’t think you could parent and I respected that but I also did what I felt I needed to do. I don’t struggle or want for a thing. I broke that curse for my kids. I kept my promise to you Coco. I made it out. I’m going through a shitty divorce though, I married up but he found some dumb bitch to stick his dick in.” She laughed. “I did it though, you gotta come and see my home. You’d be proud.”

“I used to wanna reach out to you,” Coco passed her the phone back. “There would be nights that I needed you so fucking bad. Just needed you to be there, to see you. That was something I fucking fought through because when I put you on that bus, I knew it was for the better and I knew you were gonna make some shit happen for yourself.”

She smiled at him before squeezing his arm. “I know the feeling, I wanted to come back here. Let my parents talk down to me. I thought I needed help with my kid. I spent the first two years of his life with government help before I got a really good job and started to handle shit on my own. I never looked back after that, I thought of you and this place but I didn’t think I’d have to come back. I’m only back because my mom requested it. I loved my dad but hated him for what he used to do to me. I guess he had some life insurance and a will. Left some shit to me as some fucked up apology from the afterlife. He could’ve apologized while he was still alive and I would’ve accepted it.”

“What’s his name?” He looked at her carefully. “What’d you name the kid?”

“Antonio, we call him Tony or Tonio,” She smiled. “I love him so much but he’s still a shithead.” She stood up and sighed. “He’s here, with me. I don’t know if you’re into meeting him, as a friend of mine. No pressure to be anything other than that. He’s into cars and bikes, begged me for guns but all I got him were a few paintball guns. I have taken him shooting a whole lot, he’s got the patience for it. I still don’t.”

He followed after her, slowing his pace to match hers. “I don’t know, I’m no good with kids at all. It’s cool that he likes that shit. You should get him a hunting rifle at least, it’ll be good for him.”

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know, I don’t think he needs one just yet. Maybe when he’s sixteen and has more gun safety experience under his belt.”

“I missed you Penny,” He pulled her into a hug and sighed. “I fucking missed you.”

“I missed you too Johnny,” She hugged him back. “Still got the greasy hair. Fucking wash it dude.” She chuckled as she pulled back to look at him. “This is me, I got my dream car.”

He smiled as he looked at the shiny red SUV. “Yeah, you did. Gimme your number and I’ll reach out to you. I might be down to have dinner or something. Take care Penielle.”

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 3

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark

rating: Explicit

warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

Penny had sent Peter off to bed before allowing herself to cry for a solid two hours until she passed out on the couch in her work clothes. Waking up was a trial, her head was pounding and she hadn’t pulled the curtains over the living room window closed before falling asleep so it was ten times brighter than it needed to be. She hadn’t set an alarm, but she could hear Peter moving around in the bedroom so it was around 6 AM.

“Peter, you good?” She called out absently, the usual morning greeting that meant ‘are you moving fast enough to make it to school on time?’

“I’m good,” his voice was quieter than usual, dejected in a way that broke a piece of her heart.

She sat up on the couch and put her face in her hands, elbows digging sharply into her thighs. Everything felt off, like the earth had shifted on its axis but only by a few degrees. There had been several times in her life when everything had changed in the blink of an eye. Her entire world stopped spinning, first when her mom and dad died, then again with uncle Ben, and again with aunt May. Every time it had eventually started back again, but she’d always had an anchor.

She’d always had Peter, when everything went wrong. Having to start from scratch, to rebuild her entire life, was always possible because she had Peter. He was her rock, her reason for pushing forward to fix everything that went wrong. To restabilize.

When she’d been date raped in a club in Queens half a year ago, it had been traumatic. Brock had been sniffing around for ages before she finally agreed to go out with him and then he turned into a fucking monster at the drop of a hat, the piece of shit. She hadn’t meant to let Peter find out about any of it. She’d called a friend to get her from the club, to help her home. She’d been traumatized and angry, half drugged by the time they got to the apartment and screaming about the injustice.

Peter had helped her into the shower, sent her friend off for food, and held her while she screamed and cried and otherwise lost her fucking mind. By the next morning she’d gotten a note slipped under the door, essentially telling her to fuck off and keep her mouth shut or else. As if she’d even considered going to the police— what would she have said? ‘This dude I talked to for months slipped me drugs and raped me in the back of a club. No, there were no witnesses. No, I didn’t call the police. No, I didn’t go to the hospital.’ Stupid. She’d been stupid, as always.

Getting into such a stupid situation had spiraled into a rabbit hole of almost inconceivable bad luck. If she hadn’t let herself get duped in that stupid club, Peter never would’ve gone to Stark Tower. Never would’ve gotten spotted by the man himself. And now, she wouldn’t have Peter with her when she rebuilt after this most recent, life altering tragedy.

But he would be safe. There wasn’t anything else that she needed, or could hope for, other than Peter’s safety. Besides, prison might be a nice reprieve from the 108 hour work weeks she currently endured. And they had hospitals in prison, maybe they had dentists? She hadn’t been to the dentist since before aunt May died. Would she go to prison or jail? Penny didn’t know the difference between the two, honestly.

Standing up from the couch, her eyes landed on her laptop. It was sitting open on the dining room table, plugged in because it was so old it never held a charge. She should make a to-do list for the day, starting with calling into all three of her jobs and making Peter breakfast before he had to leave for school. There was a lot she had to get done before her brother got home from school today.

“Hey Pen, have you seen my biology textbook?”

“No babe, check the table by the front door,” she stretched her arms over her head and yawned, trying to work some of the kinks out of her body from sleeping on the couch, “do you have enough time to stick around for breakfast?”

Peter stopped on the other side of the couch, watching his sister act like it was a normal day, a frown on his face. They always joked that he was the smart one. Peter could recite pi to the 40th digit, explain thermodynamics, and had gotten into a super prestigious science academy on scholarship. Usually, he’d call himself the logical sibling, the one who could see the best course of action and follow it.

But looking at his sister he was realizing there was a level of maturity missing from his logical thinking. He might’ve been the smarter one, but Penny was the one who was going to get them through this hellscape. She was calm, he could see in her eyes that the wheels were turning and that she was in so much pain, but she was calm and collected and was going to work through the day to make sure her batshit crazy plan worked out so that he would be safe.

“Yeah, I’ve got time.”

“Sounds good,” she stripped her socks off clumsily while walking into the kitchen, dropping them on the floor as she went, “hey, open up all of the bills on the counter and leave them scattered around while I cook. I want it to look like I’ve been ignoring them and they’re covered in crap.”

Peter dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Penny was pretty good at covering up her emotions but the level of dissociation she was currently displaying was impressive. He retrieved all of the bills from the basket on the kitchen counter and brought them into the living room, dropping them onto the laptop’s keyboard and kicking his feet up on the table before he began ripping them open. He tossed the empty envelopes over his shoulder absently as he went while arranging the bills into a pile to be thrown strategically around later.

“Maybe I should see if Flash will beat me up today at school,” he cringed at the $95 electric bill, knowing that was pretty high for them, “some bruises and cuts might help us when the social workers show up.”

“Don’t get yourself beat up, bud, you don’t have enough padding on your bones to keep everything from snapping under pressure.”

“Well maybe if you actually fed me sometimes, you neglectful monster.”

“Savage, Peter!” Penny’s gasp from the kitchen was full of laughter despite the painful conversation, “keep that up for the social worker.”

“So aside from trashing my things, throwing out anything edible in the kitchen, and destroying the apartment, have anything fun planned today?”

The sound of Penny cursing, followed by the loud clang of a pan hitting the floor had Peter shifting in his seat, angling around to see through the doorway to the kitchen. She hadn’t hurt herself and there was no mess, so he didn’t bother getting up to go help.

“Actually,” she made a pathetic sound upon realizing the milk in the fridge was expired, “fuck. Oh, actually I’m gonna go get my hair and nails done. So it looks like I blow our money on frivolous things instead of like, food and clothes for you.”

“Nice, you should get one of those stupid expensive coffees from those hipster places on your way back. Just for emphasis.”

Once Penny actually managed to cook, she was pretty good at it. She usually cooked what she could for all major Jewish holidays when their budget could stretch to accommodate it. Otherwise she didn’t get around to it all that often, except on her days off, so Peter considered it a treat when she made breakfast for him before school. She shoved the laptop back on the table and put a plate down in its place, revealing a heaping egg scramble and toast.

“I think we have some major issues,” Peter stated casually as they ate, avoiding the chunks of turkey bacon to save for the end, “I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be joking about today. Or tomorrow. Or any of it.”

“I figure we’ve got two options,” Penny kicked her feet up next to his, balancing her plate in her lap, “Cry about it or laugh about it. We cried about it last night and it gave me a headache. So, might as well try laughing.”

Peter shrugged but nodded in agreement, “So I think I’m gonna become a supervillain.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I could break you out of jail, bring down Tony Stark and all his minions, steal a whole bunch of money and then we could abscond off to some private island and live the rest of our lives in peace.”

“Except for when you have to go be a supervillain?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Penny gave a barking laugh and leaned over to shuffle a hand annoyingly through his hair, letting him slap her away like usual. The casual, relaxed attitude they shared was obviously forced, their eyes were full of despair, but they could at least pretend for a while. Pretending that everything was okay would at least get them through the next few days.

“Alright you dope, head to school. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Peter stood up from the table and pulled Penny up after him, wrapping her into a tight hug. He’d grown over the last year and stood several inches taller than her now. Sometimes, hugging her now felt weird because for so long he’d been smaller than her. He vividly remembered being engulfed in her arms, being surrounded by her scent and warmth and how safe it always made him feel. He hoped that she felt the same way he used to, that his hugs made her feel warm and fuzzy.

“See you after school,” he choked out after a moment, pulling away and darting out of the room without looking at her too closely.

It would hurt too much.

***

Nobody had left the living room, other than Rhodey, in over 12 hours now. Steve and Bucky were still in the recliner together, eyes glued to the TV screen showing the Parker’s living room. Peter had left for school about 20 minutes ago and Penelope Actual Angel Parker had disappeared into the bathroom.

Clint had ordered food from the kitchens about an hour ago and was waiting by the elevator for the chefs to drop it off. They’d all lamented the fact they couldn’t eat the breakfast Penny made with the Parker siblings but had satisfied themselves by listening in on their conversation with stalkerish intensity. Usually Penny didn’t leave the laptop sitting open when she wasn’t using it, so it had been another shocking revelation into their lives.

“Peter’s face while he was opening those bills makes me wonder if she usually hides them from him,” Bruce commented absently, cheek resting in his hand as he scrolled through the files on his laptop.

Instead of the lab reports from the previous night, he was looking through Penny and Peter’s medical histories—HIPAA be damned. Peter got regular physicals each year, was up to date on all of his vaccinations, had minor asthma but no other chronic issues. Penny’s medical history stopped around when her uncle Ben died and she dropped out of high school. She had all her vaccinations and was in the 2nd year of a 3 year birth control implant, no known conditions except for possible anemia. She hadn’t gone to the hospital after the rape, so he would need to run an STD panel just in case. A diet meant to promote weight gain might also be a good idea.

“I’m sure she didn’t want them to know how dire their situation was,” Wanda stated, “If given the chance, I would’ve hidden things like that from Pietro.”

“So they’re Jewish like y’all, right?” Sam squinted at the screen, pointing to a wall decoration in the apartment, “or is that a Buddhist thing?”

“A Hamsa,” she didn’t look up from her phone, having seen the wall decoration next to the window the first time she’d watched the webcam stream nearly a month ago, “they have it because they’re Jewish but it’s used in other cultures too.”

“Do we need to make sure we have anything… particularly Jew-y for them?”

Wanda finally looked up from her phone, eyebrow raised derisively, “did you get anything particularly Jew-y for me when I moved in?”

“I’m going to learn to make Challah,” Bucky intervened in the conversation before it could become a fight, having been looking up traditional Israeli and Jewish dishes for several hours now, “do you have any recipes Wanda?”

The two devolved into a conversation about homemade breads and the nuances of kosher foods, all the while Wanda scrolled through Peter and Penny’s bank statements. She was looking for their overall spending habits, what was bought for Peter and how often and when and what Penny bought for herself. The former list included the amount of clothing one would assume necessary for a growing teenage boy, along with an above average amount of groceries. There was far less fun stuff, like video games and extensive Lego sets (which they knew Peter loved). Usually those were bought around Peter’s birthday or near Hanukkah. Penny’s spending on herself was generally relegated to work clothes and toiletries, with the occasional splurge on nail polish.

“We had a Jewish neighbor growing up, you remember Buck? Ms. Goldstein made that soup,” Steve scratched his head, trying to remember the name of it but failing.

“Matzah ball soup,” Bucky supplied, glancing at the screen of Steve’s phone from his position in the man’s lap.

He’d started going through the Parker sibling’s social media accounts early in the morning, wondering who was going to put up a fuss over their potential disappearances and how much it was going to interfere with business. Not that it mattered, business was business and home and family came first but it still would be good to have a plan for any fallout.

Peter had all the social media accounts a teenager could want; Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Snapchat, TikTok, everything. He overshared on the internet just as much as any other Gen Z kid, although he seemed to favour Twitter and Instagram over the others. Instagram was updated almost daily with pictures of his friends, from school and clubs, pictures of scenery taken around New York. It was actually pretty cute and a touch artistic. He had a decent amount of followers on it too.

Penny on the other hand only had an Instagram page and a Pinterest. The former wasn’t updated much since their aunt May passed away, the recent pictures were mostly of food she’d made or of her and Peter on holidays. He wasn’t sure if the followers on her Pinterest were friends or strangers. There were a whole slew of cute pictures on her ‘Memories’ board, several of which Bucky watched Steve save to his phone. One in particular, of Penny squeezing Peter’s face close to hers while both stuck their tongues out at the camera, was saved as his new home screen.

It would be difficult to spirit either of the siblings away without some repercussions. Peter had some very close friends, MJ and Ned in particular, and was involved in tons of extracurricular activities. If he disappeared, an AMBER alert would go out within a day. Penny wasn’t particularly close to anyone, but she did have several coworkers who would notice very quickly if she went missing. She had been working in the same three places for 3 years and was a well-established and liked staff member.

“We may need to stage some sort of accident,” Steve rubbed a hand over his mouth as he scrolled through Peter’s Snapchat memories, “Peter’s friends are very close and Penny’s barely ever missed a day of work. People are going to cause a stink if they just disappear.”

“Car accident? Fire? Carbon monoxide?”

“Something that won’t leave behind a body,” Natasha drummed her fingers against her leg, humming in thought as the elevator opened and Clint retrieved the cart of food that had been sent up, “probably a fire. Or we could stage a kidnapping and blame it on someone else.”

“Both,” Clint had half of a croissant stuffed in his mouth, spitting out pieces as he spoke, “set up a kidnapping, burn some bodies, set it up to look like Penny and Peter.”

“Who’s the kidnapper?”

“How about this dumb mother fucker.”

Rhodey’s voice came from the stairwell, the man himself emerging while shoving a heavily beaten and gagged Brock Rumlow through the door. His arms were bound from the elbow down and he lost his balance, landing with a heavy thud only to be kicked hard in the side by the very angry James Rhodes and forced back to his feet.

“He confess?” Tony’s back was to them as Rhodey pushed him farther into the room, making himself a cup of coffee from the French press that had been sent up on the cart.

“More or less.”

One of the things Tony had learned over his long career was that anticipation was almost worse than a beating. Adrenaline was a devastating drug when applied as a method of torture. He could almost feel Rumlow’s heart beating faster, the sweat dripping down his brow. He hummed quietly, taking a sip of his coffee before nodding to himself and turning around.

Rhodey had the man on his knees near the coffee table, head bowed in a mixture of panic and fear. He was bleeding from the head, from his nose, dark bruises were beginning to bloom across the bridge of his nose and around his neck. Rhodes had done a number on the man in the last couple of hours.

“Did you send a letter to Penelope Parker, threatening her younger brother if she went to the police?” His voice was low and he crossed the living room in with an unhurried stride, coming to sit on the couch just inches away from where the man knelt.

The reply was muffled but obviously not a yes or no answer. Tony was well versed in what begging sounded like through a gag, how ‘please’ and ‘don’t hurt me’ came out when one’s tongue was held down by fabric. Brock Rumlow might’ve been a big bastard, but when confronted with his own mortality he became a simpering baby just like all the rest. In all honesty, Tony had a thing for begging anyway.

“Now that didn’t sound like the answer to the question I asked you.”

From his position in Steve’s lap Bucky pitched an empty wine glass at Rumlow’s face. The stem snapped off, the bowl of the glass breaking against his brow bone and leaving a jagged cut in its wake. Bruce rolled his neck at the sound of the rest of the glass hitting the ground and shattering, the sharp noise irritating his always present headache.

“You’re making us upset Brucie here, my man,” Tony stated with a flippant wave of his hand in the scientist’s direction, still taking small, satisfying sips of coffee, “which is a huge mistake. He gets pretty dangerous when you make him mad.”

The exact state of being of most of Tony’s close associates was more… fantastical, than most of the population. Mad scientists had been around for centuries and so had horrible things, like eugenics and human experimentation. He had a tendency to pick up strays at the best of times and the exciting strays, the ones who were really special, he fought to keep. It had started with Rhodey and Clint. They weren’t genetically altered, just insane at the best of times.

He’d met Rhodey in university. At the time, the man was being paid to watch Tony by his father and report back on his activities. Tony had paid better and overtime gained Rhodey’s loyalty as well as friendship. They’d been inseparable and Rhodey had been the one who thwarted Clint’s assassination attempt on Tony. It hadn’t been anything personal, of course, Clint was a world-renowned assassin and was one of the best—if you could pay him the right amount, he was willing to take out anyone. Then he’d been waylaid by a Very Angry Colonel Rhodes. Clint was easily persuaded to switch targets for the correct amount of money and soon Tony had come to see him as less of an employee and more of a friend.

Natasha and the Old Men had come next. From a situation similar to Clint’s, Natasha had been sent to off Tony. Not only had he offered her a better deal, but also protection from the Red Room, a branch of the former KGB that specialized in stealing little girls and genetically altering them. She didn’t hate the violence or the killing, she hated being controlled.  

The freezer burned boyfriends had come along looking for Howard Stark, who had apparently betrayed them (and the United States as a whole, actually) in the 40’s in a whole bunch of exciting and horrible ways. Bucky had been traumatized, a veritable murder machine and Steve hadn’t been much better off. Tony had kept them out of the public eye so they could live in relative peace and in turn had become emotionally attached. Especially upon realizing that Bucky was likely his father’s unknowing murderer, which was endearing.

Bruce had been Tony’s next acquisition and the only deliberate one. There had been reports of some sort of monster raging across the globe. It had taken ages and lots of illegal activity in the form of JARVIS hacking satellites and cameras all over the world but they’d found Bruce hiding away in India, providing illicit medical attention to the poor. He’d been attempting to copy the Super Soldier Serum used on The Olds and turned himself into a monster in the process. Tony adored the man.

Then came Thor and his adopted brother Loki, who had been experimented on by their father from a very young age. They’d lost an older sister to a process of attempted Berserker serums and they themselves were forever genetically altered. Thor was in slightly better control of his rages than Loki, but both came to Tony seeking asylum when their father had decided to end his experiments and terminate all test subjects. They were strong and brutal and Thor’s loyalty was unwavering, which was nice because Loki’s only loyalty was to his brother. It was a compromise Tony could live with.

Sam and Wanda and Pietro had been picked up by Steve and Clint respectively, the former a veteran and counselor who turned to murder for hire after being honorably discharged from service and the latter a pair of genetic experiments who’d accidentally stumbled upon Clint after escaping imprisonment. All three had been brought back to the Tower and into the fold.

Pepper and Happy had been picked up along the way of course, his right and left hands for all intents and purposes. Pepper had helped him build the legitimate face of his business and Happy had run interference in all illegal aspects, as well as literally putting himself between Tony and danger.

A short whimper of sheer terror escaped Rumlow before he seemed to almost crumple in front of them, folding in half and hitting the ground. Tony raised an eyebrow as the man landed just a few inches from his foot and groaned in annoyance before dumping the rest of his coffee on the man.

“Don’t pass out on me now, Rumlow, we’ve got— Oh, would you look at that.”

Tony drew the attention of the whole room to the TV screen, where Penelope Precious Parker had emerged from the bathroom in clean clothes. Her long hair was dripping down her back, dampening her white t-shirt just enough that Tony sent Clint a look that said Watch Yourself, Pervert. The same look was not given to Steve or Bucky, although with the way their eyes followed the woman, it should’ve been.

Rhodey bent over and hauled Rumlow back to his knees, turning him to face the TV and yanking his head back, “You see her, Rumlow? You remember her?”

Another whimper, this one with enough inflection to mean ‘yes’. Tony nodded and let out a deliberate, disappointed sigh.

“Yeah, I thought you might say that. You see, that precious little thing has just become one of the most important people in the world. In my world. Her little brother, who you threatened after hurting her in such a despicable way? He is my world,” Tony rolled his shoulders and stood up, walking around the table to get a closer look at the TV.

Penny had sat down on the couch, still well within view of the webcam, and was pulling on a pair of socks. A pair of beat up tennis shoes were on the floor next to her, having been fished out of the trunk that doubled as an end table. Bucky shifted out of the corner of his eye, watching as her shorts rode up higher on her shapely thighs as she contorted to pull on her sneakers. She continued on to gather all of her wet hair into her hands, tying it into a big messy bun on the top of her head.

“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” he continued after a moment, “being confronted with your mistakes like this. You see, I go out of my way to not make mistakes. Or mistakes that could come back to haunt me, at least. I tie up my lose ends, I like pretty packages.”

“She’s a real pretty package,” Steve fucking sighed like a swooning school girl as Penny stood up and started shifting through some things on the table in front of her, bent over enough to offer an excellent view of her ass.

Tony snorted along with Sam and waved a dismissive hand in the blond’s direction. Steve and Bucky had been half infatuated with Penny when they thought she was a cruel, neglectful monster; now that they knew the truth, that Penny was precious and kind, they were falling in love just watching her through a screen.

“Now the point of this whole thing, unfortunately for you, is that you hurt Penny and you threatened Peter and by extension, you hurt and threatened me.”

There was a muffled ‘I didn’t know!’ through the gag and Tony Stark once again Did Not Roll His Eyes, because he was above that sort of thing.

“Of course not, that’s why this has to sting. You see, maybe if you just didn’t rape anyone this never would’ve happened. You never would’ve been in this situation. But instead you had to go and drug some poor girl and stick your disgusting dick in her and hurt her,” Tony rolled his head to the side and cracked his neck, “And once again, unfortunately for you, everything just kind of got more complicated from there. Because I’m not sure what to do with you at the moment.”

“Tones?” Rhodey’s eyebrows were furrowed, his hand still keeping Rumlow’s head in place.

“Right, right, let me explain to the room at large,” a flamboyant wave of Tony’s hand made everyone sit slightly straighter, “we have a couple of options going forward. The first, is take Peter and Penny, frame and kill Rumlow and be done with it,” several noises of agreement followed the sentence but Tony shook his hands again to quiet them, “Or, we could take the babies, frame Rumlow, but not kill him.”

“Why not kill him?”

“Because then we could let Peter do it. Or Penny,” Tony tapped chin and began to pace, “or, because they’re both going to be very upset in the first few months, we could use him as… incentive, to be good.”

“Hm, killing him in front of them is ballsy,” Sam stood over next to the cart of food, making himself a plate and a cup of coffee, “You want to induce Stockholm Syndrome, but the shock might be too much.”

“Are you worried about them reacting to a murder in general or like, feeling bad he was killed because of them?”

“Both, either,” Sam shrugged, “pick your favourite.”

“Why don’t we keep him around for a bit, we don’t necessarily have to make the decision today,” Steve suggested, shifting Bucky off of his lap and standing up.

The imposing man made his way towards Rumlow with his usual level of heavy swagger, natural as a result of his musculature and dimensions. Rhodey took several steps back at the approach, recognizing the glint of near ferality in the former Captain’s eyes. Getting in the blond’s way was in no one’s best interest and besides, Rhodey trusted the man implicitly. The man’s hand came down on Rumlow’s head almost gently, his fingers carding through his hair and tilting his head back to look him in the eyes. His face was swollen from Rhodey’s heavy hits already, but he could still see.

“Besides, me and Bucky are gonna need a playmate for a while. All that pent-up aggression—it’s gotta go somewhere, right, Brock?”

[dragynkeep]

You know I'm still pissed how they handled the whole Argus/getting to Atlas thing so let me word vomit for a bit because I have a better idea on how they get there. (Part 1) First throw Rubys, "we've gotten by without adults before" speech out the window. Instead we follow through with her calling Qrow out on his shit. At least Jaune is thinking of ideas that's more than Qrow right now. If he wants to be useless fine stay in argus or fuck off but *they* will continue the fight and get to Atlas

Qrow realizes he's being a dumb bitch is like okay fine there is one thing we can do. I can't believe this hasn't been established but here goes, there are certain access points that are safe guarded where the inner circle can get a direct message to James so he can give his permission to esquort them to Atlas. Problem is for Argus it's the military base so instead of stealing an airship they just gotta sneak into the base long enough for Qrow to get through to James

it's then decided that Maria can act as a distraction by antagonizing Cordo into a fight between them giving Kerry his old lady fight (mmm okay) and also gived pay off into their rivarly. Qrow sneaks in as a bird and gets to the communication room. Meanwhile teams rwby and jnpr go patrol the outskirts of the coast to keep the relic away from people and pick off some grimm to keep busy. This is when Adam ambushes them. Oscar gets sent back to the military base for backup and his safety

So Oscar gets sent to the base for backup to capture a high profile terrorist and also keep him safe. But since Blake and Yang haven't dealt with their trauma it attracts even more grimm forcing jnpr to double back and take care of the grimm so it doesn't make its way to the city. Rwby then *all* face Adam as a team. But he's a punk bitch and decides he has to hurt them all. So he attacks Ruby like slash to the gut and sends her flying into the ocean to either drown or bleed out

This leads to all of team wby to give a final team attack. Adam can either be killed or subdued. Meanwhile Ruby has her breakdown wondering if all this is really worth it, if she's just meant to die like her mom? Her blood and fear attract sea grimm she has the montage of bad memories but she can just barely see something or someone coming her way. Jaune most likely since he'd be closer to the water He grabs her and wraps her cloak around the wound and trying to swim to the top.

his armour however weighs him down and using one arm to hold up Ruby makes it hard to swim to the top. Here Ruby realizes it's either Jaune or one of her friends trying to save her. She now has the montage of good memories maybe even Summer saying words of encouragement. Silver eyes vaporize all grimm in the surrounding area. This gives Jaune the push to swim up and get Ruby to shore Jaune closes the wound withhis semblance but Ruby still has blood loss. Now the military comes to help

Cordo sees Adam either captured alive or dead and an injuried Ruby is quickly transported to the military base for medical treatment. We can even do a cliche but very much needed scene wher Ruby is in the afterlife and talks to Pyrrha or her mom sharing her guilt and fear of failing but they encourage her to keep going. Ruby wakes up weak but alive. Nice family moment between Yanh, Ruby, and Qrow where they all agree this fight is worth seeing to the end and they can't give up.

Cordo as thanks for capturing/killing Adam gives them a pardon and Ironwood is contacted and gives special permission for them to be esquorted to Atlas. They either leave right away needing to get the relic put away or wait until Ruby heals. Ruby and Jaune can have a nice moment where she thanks him for saving her life, he's all like you saved my life in so many ways and he couldn't save Pyrrha he wasn't about to lose her too. Volume ends with the fleet in Atlas as a cliffhanger. Fin

First off, thank you for the word vomit ‘cause we know have an essay to ready through. Never put us through this torment again, I have dyslexia.

Starting off, getting rid of Ruby’s speech about not needing adults when the show seriously contradicts her is sorely needed. It makes Ruby come off as ungrateful and arrogant, and I’m not here for it. Qrow still needed that stern telling off from Ruby because he is being unreceptive to any of their suggestions and he isn’t helping at all, but none of the others even tried to help Qrow through his depressive spiral. I’d have Ruby and Yang trying together to get through to him, but not acting like he’s a burden when he’s having a relapse and needs help.

Mentioning other ways for Ozpin’s inner circle to contact one another would’ve been an interesting point, but it hasn’t been established at all. They should have some way to contact each other, but they don’t, and it’s just like what? How the fuck do they ever contact each other, use the bog standard CCT Towers like everyone else? That’s not secretive! No wonder Cinder hacked your phone, James, get Nord VPN! 

Because of this, you run into the territory of an Ass Pull. The heroes have run into a problem and are in a dead end, but wait! Qrow has this secret way to contact James that wasn’t established before and only brings it up now rather than attempting when they were in Haven! It would require redoing things in previous volumes for that to work. 

And a quick note, the idea of the heroes sneaking into the military base has me thinking of the prison scene in Shrek 2 where Shrek’s friends break Shrek, Donkey and Puss out of jail.

Positive note, but at least here Qrow remembers that he can turn into a bird to sneak into places, which is why Ozpin gave him the powers in the first goddamn place. 

With RWBYJNR staying away from Argus because of the relic actually gives consequences to the relic seemingly drawing Grimm. They can’t remain in Argus for long without putting it in danger, but now they’re in danger of Grimm attacks and anyone against them coming across the group. But having Adam do it, especially with the whole group, doesn’t really work. I’m always one to say that Adam is a good fighter, but there is no way he could take on the whole of Team RWBY and JNR, even if Yang and Blake are struggling with their own trauma relating to him. 

If he was picking them off one by one like Blake warned Sun about, then yeah, but I doubt the group would split up like that to allow him to pick them off, and they would just be dumb to split up anyway because they’re at risk of Grimm. I like the idea of Oscar going back to get backup, because it means that the heroes aren’t so arrogant that they believe they can handle everything themselves, plus it doesn’t hurt to build good relations with the people who you want to gain passage from. 

However, the reason that JNR tracks back doesn’t really make sense when you realise that for the amount of Grimm needed for them to deal with without fear of failure, the city could easily handle themselves if they appear. The only reason that Argus was overwhelmed by Grimm in canon is because Cordovin took the mech to fight the heroes and took it away from defense. Here, the mech and defenses are still in Argus, ready to use if the amount of Grimm that would be attracted by the negativity of two people appeared. It feels like JNR left because the plot told them to, not because there’s a legit reason for them to. 

Even the whole fight between WBY and Adam has the same problems as canon. This is Blake versus her abuser, but rather than Yang overtaking the fight in canon, it’s now Ruby being thrown off the cliff that’s taken precedence. It’s the wrong person taking the attention. Also, I’m not a fan that it’s Jaune that saves Ruby when he’s not even supposed to be there, since he’s doubled back with his team. It really should be Yang, we already have problems with the sisters not being given moments to be sisters. There is one later when Ruby wakes up, but that’s shared with Qrow, and it being Jaune who saves Ruby doesn’t fit in my opinion. 

The meeting with Pyrrha/Summer and Ruby in the afterlife? I would nix that. It’s a special thing that happened between Ozma and the GoL to show the otherworldliness of the gods and that Ozma is special. It’s not a common occurance that happens a lot in RWBY like in other shows like Naruto. Also, Ruby was not that close to Pyrrha, they had a handful of scenes together before Pyrrha died. I would see it more like Penny than Pyrrha in terms of someone who’s close to Ruby, but either way the scene doesn’t really work.

I get what you were trying to do with Jaune’s character. He couldn’t save Pyrrha so he wouldn’t let another one of his friends die, but this comes with the problem of taking away a moment that should’ve gone to Yang rescuing her sister, and that by the time this fight would come, Jaune has already reached the conclusion over Pyrrha. He has already started moving on from his guilt over her dealth. 

And reading the rest of this, that’s unfortunately the feeling I get. There’s some good bits here that I think would’ve made the season better, but it feels convoluted and that once again, the plot is driving the characters, not the characters driving the plot. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Daniel Michaelson: The Party

Anonymous said:                                                                            Junior executive of the company purposefully setting off Danny to see what happens! Mwahahahaha

This was requested and I put it together! I can’t remember who asked me for this any longer, though. Who was it? IDENTIFY YOURSELF so I can tag you!

CW: Implied/referenced past noncon and violence, forced drinking, Trevor Corey is a dick to a trauma victim, PTSD/trauma flashback, emotional abuse (at the end)

Tagging my people: @special-spicy-chicken, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook

Timeline: Just before The Lucky Ones

“Do you remember me?”

Danny blinks, startled by the loudness of the voice so close by him. His grip tightens on the glass in his hand - rum, St. Germain, lemon juice, and sugar. Little edible sugar violet that had floated on top at first, but Danny ate that. Ryan hadn’t said a word about him drinking flower drinks again, only ordered himself his usual rum and coke and slipped back to the party with a wink.

Danny shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t belong here anymore, with these people - he never did. But Mom and Dad wanted him here, wanted to make a show of family unity.

Like there’d ever been any.

Still, they’d had dinner catered and paid for a bartender and Danny had put on the suit that used to be tailored and now was loose everywhere but his shoulders, even though he’d put some weight back on since he came home. Nate wasn’t here, though - the whole thing about him being at this party was that if Danny agreed to show up and wear his suit and be the dutiful returned long-lost son, they’d give him more money for Nate to go to speech therapy, too, to try and shake the stammer or at least control it.

It was the only way Nate would agree to think about trying to teach again, and Danny would do anything to help Nate start back on building a foundation.

So here he is, at a company party in his parents’ house, trying not to feel his skin crawl with the memory of the way Corrine had kept a hand on his back while reintroducing him to people who hadn’t seen him since a year before he went missing.

Danny had come in and carefully ignored the framed photos in the entryway, family photos, photos of Danny and Ryan as children, the blown-up photos from the People article about his adoption. Michaelson Logging CEO Finds New Purpose With Growing Brood: ‘Family is Really the Most Important Thing in the World’.

Danny had never met the aunt whose startlingly public meltdown and disappearance had been the reason he was adopted. Neither had Ryan - Kells Michaelson, Patrick’s younger sister, might as well have vanished off the face of the earth, although she still sent Christmas cards with no return address.

Wait.

Did he just remember that?

Danny felt a hint of a proud smile on his face, before the hard-edged voice interrupted him again. 

“Hey, are you even listening to me? I’m talking to you. You really are a fucking space cadet now, huh?” The voice is a little annoyed, ragged at the edges, and Danny turns to look at who spoke to him and freezes.

Pale blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, a flash of white teeth in a smile above a perfectly tailored suit.

(don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me, puppy)

No

(you haven’t been very good for me, have you?)

No no no

(even if I did let you go, I could be anywhere, at any time, you’d never be free)

No, please no

(don’t you ever fucking forget that you’re mine)

In the time it takes for his eyes to widen and his heart to start hammering inside his chest, he realizes it’s not Abraham at all. Abraham Denner is in prison, he thinks, reminds himself, chants inside his head like an incantation. It’s not him, not at all. Younger, his own age, with darker honeyed blonde hair and the eyes are a much deeper, darker blue. Nothing moves beneath the waters.

His skin’s pale, but it’s no paler than Danny’s, less freckled, still perfectly human. The man’s face isn’t eerily pretty like Abraham’s, but has a stronger jaw, a narrower mouth. At first he can’t remember who it is, but then his eyes light on the white teeth and Danny’s brain kicks up dust and supplies the white teeth are veneers, they cost Johnson Corey a pretty penny and were a birthday present for Trevor’s seventeenth birthday.

Trevor. That’s who it is, Trevor Corey.

Trevor Corey has hated Daniel Michaelson his whole fucking life, for reasons Danny never understood, and he’s staring right at him, now.

“T-Trevor,” Danny manages, his voice a little hesitant, shaking a little harder than he intends. Trevor’s smile widens at the recognition, and he holds up his own glass - just two fingers of whiskey, neat - and Danny’s hand moves without him, clinking the glasses together.

Cheers, now what the fuck do you want?

(don’t be rude, puppy)

I’m sorry, I’ll be good

“You do remember me. They said your memory’s fucked all to hell from the blows to the head.” Trevor looks away from him, down the hall and through the doorway at the crowd in the great big dining room. Most of the executives are in the far corner talking animatedly about something that just happened in Japan, while the executive kids (Trevor and Danny being the oldest, the other two dozen or so filtering down year by year to the youngest, little Nathalie - how do I remember all of this but I forgot that I owned a laptop before Abraham found me?) are scattered around the room chatting.

Ryan’s nowhere to be seen - studiously avoiding a group of people that he keeps reminding Danny are his ex’s family and Danny doesn’t remember a single one of them - and Danny feels a curl of nervous fear up his spine.

Alone alone alone.

Ryan’s just going to go outside for a second and be right back, Danny reminds himself. He’ll be right back for you, don’t move from this spot. You used to know this house but you don’t know anything now, you’ll get lost in the hallways by yourself.

Don’t move from this spot.

Stay, puppy.

(that’s my good boy, you’re so good at ‘stay’ now, aren’t you? oh, but see the pretty bruises on your knees)

“I have some, um, my, uh… Dr. Rosa thinks it’s trauma-based memory repression, not, um… not from the concussions,” Danny mutters, more into his drink than to Trevor. “They come back sometimes. Better now.”

He had a dim sense that he’d known his own birthdate for a few hours this morning, the way you just knew things like that. It was gone now - but he thought it would probably come back. Maybe.

If it didn’t, Ryan and Nate would just keep reminding him.

He’d be… whatever the next age was soon enough. Maybe he’d remember that one.

“Glad to hear it,” Trevor replies. He’s close to Danny, too close, and Danny tries to take a quick step back only for his back to bump into the wall, next to one of the large houseplants Corrine kept pretty much everywhere, the ferns and green leaves that grew glossy and dark and silky for her.

Danny had always managed to kill any houseplant he tried to keep alive, even the aloe - oh my god, I remembered the aloe plant.

“So what are you up to these days?” Trevor’s voice, impossibly, is even closer, and Danny swallows hard as the shorter man leans in. His shoulders are hunching, he can’t seem to stop them, and before long they’re nearly the same height. Danny clutches his drink like a life raft.

“I’m, um. I’m at home a lot,” Danny manages. He should tell Trevor to fuck off but he can’t, he’s not that Danny any longer. “I go to, um, to therapy and practice… going out. Sometimes. Trevor, can you, um, can you back up a little bit?”

His voice cracks a little on the question and he sees a light in Trevor’s eyes that he knows all too well. A burst of interest and fascination, and it’s not tempered by concern, not at all.

The scars on Danny’s face suddenly burn as if they’re brand new, like Abraham is shoving the muzzle onto his face right now, while he stands in the corner in a hallway in his own childhood home and Trevor Corey is way too close.

“Do you not like people to stand too close to you, Michaelson?” Trevor’s eyebrows raise, and he leans in even further, taking a sip from his own glass. Danny’s eyes dance to the side and then back, but he’s blocked off by Corrine’s plant, the people in the dining room probably can’t even see him, just Trevor, closer and closer.

Too close.

Too close too close too close

(do you get to choose, puppy? do you get to choose who touches you, ever again?)

“No,” Danny whispers, and the word feels foreign and forbidden on his tongue, coming out of his mouth. He’s not allowed to say no, ever again - but he is allowed to say no, they talked about this in therapy and Nate and Ryan tell him all the time. “No, I, um, I don’t like people to get very close to me now-”

“Why is that?” Trevor raises an eyebrow, and there’s a smirk playing across his face. Danny wants to punch him, to beat the shit out of that stupid smug fucking face he’s had to put up with his entire life - but Red is too scared and Red is sometimes louder than Danny.

“He, uh, he got… he got in my face a lot. I just. Trevor, back off, okay?” He starts out strong, he thinks, but then his voice wavers and breaks again, and he tries to curl his spine, make himself smaller. He could just walk away. He could - just stand up and walk the fuck away. He grew up in this house, even if he can’t remember it any longer, even if the layout is hiding down inside his head with all the things the past four years buried.

He can walk away from this.

But Danny’s legs won’t move, and when Trevor sets his drink down on a nearby little table covered in framed photos of Corrine, Patrick, and Ryan, Danny doesn’t do anything but watch, hear the soft thunk of the glass on the wood, and stare as Trevor turns back to him.

“I heard you flipped your shit at Starbucks a couple weeks ago,” Trevor says conversationally, and leans his hand on the wall, boxing Danny in totally between the plant and Trevor. The condensation coming off of Danny’s drink makes his fingers cold and slippery and he grips the glass as tightly as he can. “Friend of mine was there and told me all about it. Said some girls took pictures of your face.”

Danny’s breath catches and he stares at something over Trevor’s shoulder, feeling the cold slowly wash down from the top of his head, trickling through him, slipping under his skin and into his veins, all the way down to is feet.

“They said you ran to the bathroom with your brother and that friend of yours right on your heels. I have to admit - I’m so interested in what happened in that bathroom, especially since apparently the barista blocked the whole fucking hallway off to keep everyone out. Then, you come out a few minutes later - led out to the car by your friend like a little kid who threw a tantrum - and your brother tips the store a hundred dollar bill. What’d you do, Danny-man?”

I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after I realized they were looking at me, looking at my scars.

“I hate that fucking nickname.” He manages to get the words out, but they’re small, barely a whisper. The room is getting colder around him. There’s a wisp of fingers through his hair, a murmured (who’s being such a good boy today?) and Danny makes himself take a breath.

Inhale.

My name is Daniel Michaelson.

“You know what, I want to know-”

Hold for five.

“-was it taking the pictures that got you all flustered, or that they were of your fucked-up face?”

His breath stops, caught in his throat, and he can’t remember how the rest of it goes. All he can remember is and I’m the puppy and I want to be good.

Danny’s eyes drift, focus on the wall opposite him, where he can see a photo of himself, a sophomore in college at Ryan’s high school graduation. His hair was cut shorter then, and he’d tried to calm the waves and you could almost see how stiff his hair was with product.

“I don’t, um, I don’t like people looking at my face,” He mumbled, looking at himself, younger, half-smiling at the camera in a deep black T-shirt and jeans, an arm around Ryan who is smiling next to him in his cap and gown, holding his diploma up in the air like a trophy.

I went to a concert later that night. I got so stoned I could barely think, hooked up with somebody. I didn’t know, I didn’t know that I only had a couple of years left. No one told me.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t, either, if I looked like that.”

Danny felt Trevor’s hands close over his around the glass in his hand. “What are you, um-… Trev, you hate me,” Danny whispers, his throat is going to close and he can feel it, can feel the bite of the leather around his neck, the way the little tag bumps against his collarbone sometimes, glinting RED in the sunlight in the clearing…

“Yeah,” Trevor says softly. “And I’ve always wanted to see snobby stuck-up fucking Daniel fucking Michaelson brought down a peg or two without his little brother to nose his way into shit that’s none of his business.”

“Trevor, you have to move, I really need you to, um, to give me space, to stop touching me-”

“No.” Trevor leans in just a little further, his mouth nearly against Danny’s ear. No one can see him behind his mother’s stupid fucking houseplants. No one’s in this hallway. He can hear them talking, just down the hall, but he can’t get enough voice to ask for help.

Ryan, Mrs. Verona… Dad… Mom, even, just somebody, please

(do you get to decide what happens to this body now?)

No, Abraham, no, you decide, you decide what happens now, it’s yours

(who does this body belong to?)

Yours, Abraham, it’s your body, you can make it do whatever you want

Danny’s fingers try to let go of the glass, but Trevor’s are closed too tightly over them and when the rim is tilted up to his lips, Danny opens his mouth and lets Trevor pour the sweet cocktail straight down his throat.

He manages to swallow nearly all of it but some runs down the corner of his mouth, down to his throat, cold liquid warming to his skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ, look at you,” Trevor breathes against his cheek, into his ear. Danny’s heart races, too fast, it can’t beat this fast or Abraham will know, he’ll get mad, he’ll get so mad and then he’ll be in trouble, he’ll be punished. “You’re such a fucking mess now, Michaelson. You used to tell me to fuck off every time you saw me and now you just stand here like a pretty little doll. Did he fuck you up in those woods, Danny-man? That’s what our guy in the courtroom said. The Coreys had someone there every day to see what your dad didn’t want us to know about, but we found out, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Danny says softly, because that’s a rule. Always answer Abraham’s questions. Abraham always knows when you’re lying.  

“Guess we know why Patrick Michaelson stopped talking about his sons inheriting the company and he only talks about the one now, even though Danny came back from the dead, huh?”

My name is Red.

(I’ll call you anything I want, puppy)

Trevor laughs, tipping the very last drops of Danny’s drink into his mouth. He takes them, he’s good, and Abraham likes to make him drink this way. Danny finds some dim part of him wondering what he’s put in the drink this time, and hopes it’s the stuff that makes him feel good first.

There’s a chuckle - it’s not quite right, it doesn’t shake through him the same way. “We found out that that Denner fucker went up there on the stand and he told everybody how good you are now…”

(don’t you want to be good for me, Red?)

Blue eyes turn to colorless ice in his mind. He sees the monster underneath.

He looks up into Abraham’s eyes. “I am good,” Danny replies, automatically, hearing the edge of a whine in his voice. “I want to be good.”

When Abraham picks the glass of brown liquor up from a small table behind him where it was sitting next to a houseplant, puts Danny’s empty glass down next to it, his eyes follow the movements but he doesn’t move.

It’s not his body, any longer, and Abraham will tell him what to do.

“Drink,” Abraham says, and Danny leans his head forward, moves his mouth to rest at the rim of the glass, and it’s bourbon - it’s bourbon Abraham wants him to drink now. Warmth in his shoulders, burning in his throat. He’ll get to feel good, first, this time.

It’s not so bad, then.

“Oh, you’re fucking gone, now,” Abraham says with delight. There’s still something wrong, something off, but Danny can’t figure out what and his brain moves like mush. He’s struggling under the weight of obedience - he shouldn’t think. He can’t think. If he thinks, he’ll break a rule. Instead, he drinks the rest of the bourbon sip by sip, and feels the world go warm around its edges, while Abraham watches the flush rise in his face, covering over the scars until they nearly look pale in comparison. “Hey, what’ll you do, like this? Shit, I gotta tell someone, I’ve waited my whole fucking life to see your bullshit torn down like this…”

Abraham pulls out his phone - it’s not the one Danny remembers, the black case with the bumpy ridges. This one is camouflage-patterned and something in him knows that’s not right, that’s not what Abraham’s phone looks like. He takes a picture of Danny’s wide blue eyes, dazed and fogged over and frightened, with the glass still pressed against his bottom lip, with the last little bits of brown liquor on his tongue.

“Now that photo I’ll keep close to home,” Abraham says. “That’s for my collection. I wonder if I could find some of the ones they talked about in court, they said that shit put them on the internet… Whatever. Let’s see what else I can get you to do.” He sets the glass back down on the table, empty now, and Danny feels the two drinks, back to back, settling into his veins, fogging the world around him.

“Anything,” Danny says. He knows how this one goes, what feeding him drinks means. He puts his wrists together and holds them up in front of himself at chest level. Sometimes if he guesses what Abraham wants to do, if he’s right, he gets hurt less for being good that way, too. “I, I can do anything you want, Abraham. I want to be good for you.”

“Oh, shit.” Abraham goes still, staring at him. “Is that what this is? You think I’m him now? Oh man. This is even better than I-”

“Trevor Corey, what are you doing with my son?”

Her voice. Danny hears the sudden snap of disappointed irritation and feels his brain click back into place, dropping his hands back down to his sides. Trevor steps back and away from him - not Abraham, it was Trevor the whole time, it was never Abraham - and Danny swallows hard as he sees his mother standing in the hallway, arms crossed, in her black cocktail dress and pearls.

For just a second, he thinks his mother’s eyes are glowing.

And purple.

“Mrs. Michaelson.” Trevor smooths down his suit along the front, clears his throat, standing nervously. “I was just talking to Danny-”

“You were bothering him. Go rejoin your father in the dining room.” When Trevor hesitates, some part of him bristling at being spoken to like a child when he is a grown man, Corrine’s eyes narrow. Not glowing at all. “I said go, Trevor.”

“Mrs. Michaelson, I was only-”

“I know what you were doing to him. I saw you take a photo of his face, and I saw what you did with your drink. You will not push my son any further tonight or you will find yourself regretting every moment from your birth until this second. I’ve changed your diapers, you know. Don’t think you intimidate me for one single solitary moment. Go find Johnson and hope to God I decide not to tell him what I just caught you at.”

When she points down the hall, Trevor shoots a glare full of hate at Danny, but he goes.

Only when he’s gone does Corrine turn her eyes back to her son, who stares back at her wide-eyed, uncertain, feeling suddenly weighed-down and exhausted. “Are you all right, Danny?”

Danny swallows, hard - he can still feel the liquor, the buzz in the back of his mind, making it all feel a little bit smooth and strange. Slowly, he nods, stepping away from the wall, crossing his arms in front of himself and hunching over just a little. “I’m okay,” He says, softly, voice a little shaky. “I’m okay, Mom.”

“Did he hurt you?” Corrine looks him over brusquely, brushes at his shoulder, ignoring the way he shudders a little at the sudden touch. “Do you need to lie down?”

“N-No. I’m, um, I’m fine. Can I… do you know where Ryan is?”

She stops mid-motion, picking a bit of lint off his sleeve. Her eyes go to his - the odd honey-colored amber eyes that she and Ryan had in common. Why had he thought they were purple? Was that part of his flashback somehow? “He went up to his room, dear. I think he got a call from, well, you know who.”

“Oh. His ex called?”

“Yes, well, I assume, since he didn’t want me to overhear it.” Corrine steps back to look at him again, and something in the hard lines of her face gentles, just a bit. “Oh, Danny. What are we going to do about all of this, hm?”

Danny’s eyes drop to the floor. He feels fourteen, not… however old he is now. Twenty-something, at least. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’ve been better. I don’t know what happened. I’ll try harder.”

“Hush. That wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Corrine’s hand pats the side of his face, and Danny is so good, he doesn’t even flinch. “Go upstairs and find your brother. I’ll let Dad know you’ll be heading home in the next few minutes once Ryan is done with his phone call, how does that sound? We’ll keep this between us. No one tells anyone, understood?”

“Sure, I, I won’t tell anybody-”

“Don’t tell your brother.” Corrine’s voice drops into seriousness and Danny blinks at her confused. “I know you two tell each other everything - you’ve always been inseparable - but he’ll only kick up a mess if he finds out Trevor acted that way. And we don’t need that sort of hostility at the company, do we? Over a little misunderstanding?”

“A… a what?”

“Trevor just didn’t understand what he was doing, did he?”

“M-Mom, he fed me my drink, he-”

“He’s always had a thing for you. Clearly he drank too much tonight and made a mistake, that’s all. Go find your brother and don’t tell him anything.” When Danny hesitates, Corrine sighs. “Right. I forgot. Go upstairs, Ryan’s room is the third one on the right. Yours is the fourth. I need to get back to the party. Will you be all right, Danny?”

“Um. Yeah, Mom. I’ll be, I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” She pats him on the back, and he digs his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from pulling away. “Thank you, darling. You’re so different now that you’ve come back to us… It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Danny asks, because he doesn’t really remember who he used to be, before.

“You went through all of that horror… and you came back sweeter. People will always surprise you.” Corrine shrugs and waves him away, turning herself to head back for the dining room.

Danny stands staring after her for a long time before he looks around himself, down the hall, and tries to remember where the stairs are.

Like hell he won’t tell Ryan.

He’ll go upstairs and tell Ryan everything.

Assuming he still remembers any of it by the time he figures out how to get upstairs.

[mylifeasatransferstudent]

Where to Begin?

CW: Suicidal thoughts/ contemplations/ plans, sexual abuse/ some strong language/ honestly if you’re my family you probably don’t want to read this

In order to explain where I am today—physically and mentally—I need to set up an understanding of what exactly lead me to where I am today.

When I was a freshman in high school, I was hospitalized for my mental health. I didn’t know why, but I was suicidal and spent 14? days in the hospital where I was prescribed Prozac. I was diagnosed with Major Depression Disorder and General Anxiety Disorder, on top of my preexisting ADHD.

At the time I just said all of my mental health issues were due to the fact that I was adjusting to the new circumstances of my home life: My parents were divorced; my mom had just moved to Georgia to be with her boyfriend; my grandmother moved as well but to Central California to be with my cousins; and the cherry on top had been the fact that 9 people (only 4 of which were my kin, at least 2 were drug addicts) were now living in my childhood home, a four-bedroom and two-bathroom house. It was old (I think it was built in the 70s). We also seemed to be running an animal shelter (5 dogs and 3 cats. Two of the cats were not spayed and had litters at the same time so I think at one point we had 9 total cats). No one, myself included, seemed to care about the cleanliness of the house; however, when I was stressed and life seemed like too much to bare, I would clean which was the only time any cleaning would get done.

So yeah that seemed like a good enough reason to want to die.

 I got out of the hospital sometime after Valentine’s Day and I went back to school. I seriously can’t clearly remember anything that happened while I was on Prozac. It’s all fuzzy like a movie I watched only one time and I was drunk when I watched it. I have only one fairly clear memory from this time:

I was in my first hour class, Physical Science (which I think was my favorite class freshman year) and my teacher was talking and I could see his mouth move but I could not comprehend anything he said. It was like he was an adult in Charlie Brown. The bell rang and I couldn’t move. One of my classmates nudged me and I awoke from my daze to a puddle of drool on my notebook.

You see 14 days isn’t enough time to see how your body reacts to a new drug plus a hospital does not have the same stimuli as a classroom. I was given a drug and I could not see a doctor to alter my meds. Everyone on my insurance was not accepting new patients, but I could not take the Prozac anymore. Fuck America’s mental health care system. My dad saw how much worse off I was on the Prozac that he weened me off of it and I had to learn to cope on my own.

I failed 3 classes that year.

 Sophomore year, my home life hadn’t improved much and my eldest brother went to rehab. That took an emotional toll. Especially the “family week” which was toward the end and we set boundaries with each other and learned what the signs of relapse are. Each family member had to write a letter “When you do drugs it makes me feel like…if you continue to do drugs I will…if you steal from me…if you lie to me..” things like that to set boundaries on both sides. Now really all I knew was that my brother had sold my Zune and a few other things that were mine, so I just had to say don’t steal from me. When he read the letter he had wrote to me he looked me in the eyes and said, “You will not bring up anything I have done to you. If you do I will end the conversation then and there and walk away.”

I felt a lump form in my throat and eyes began to water. I just nodded and held back the tears. I knew I wasn’t wrong this whole time; I knew I wasn’t sick; I knew I hadn’t imagined it. He knew. He remembers. But for now that was all I got.

He was released, went into a ¾ home, relapsed, repeat. Now he’s been sober for a couple of years I think. Good for him.

 Junior year I think was the most uneventful year as far as my mental health goes. I grew closer to friends and really it was a good year.

 Senior year I took on more responsibility and was 2nd VP of JCL. My depression reared its ugly head. I was suicidal again. I had panic attacks almost daily and my dad would check me out of class, so I almost always missed my 7th hour which was Pre Cal. I was horrible at 2nd VPing and the other JCL officers decided to take action.

They wrote a letter and gave it to our Latin teacher and she read it to me. I cried and after my Latin class was over I ran into the restroom and sobbed. I thought I was going to throw up from crying so much. The bell rang for my English class to begin and I hugged the toilet. I began to calm down but even so I hated myself for being so weak I couldn’t handle any form of criticism. I thought about the scissors I had in my backpack. It would be so easy I thought. So easy and then I would have to worry about anything anymore. Weakness isn’t a problem when you’re dead. When you’re suicidal, this is the logic that your brain wants to follow, but you can’t let it. Find something to act as an anchor. People always say live for yourself, but when your self-worth is less than a penny, that seems like a dumb argument. What I wanted to live for I really didn’t know. But I knew I didn’t want to die where my best friend could be the one to find the body and her class was right across the hall. So I sent my dad a text to come get me and he did.

All of this is to say: I didn’t apply to any colleges because I didn’t know if I was going to be alive at the end of senior year.

By the way I failed 2 classes senior year. Still graduated class of 2014.

Fall of 2014 my dad and I move to Houston for his job and because I wasn’t staying at that house. Spring of 2015 I start as a Theater Major at a community college. I really didn’t know what I wanted to do but I knew I liked acting. Summer I work at a Girl Scout camp. Fall 2015 I had a problem getting registered for class, so took semester off and did a community play “Guards! Guards!” Spring 2016 I do just some basics at school and change my major to math. That summer I returned to camp then that fall go back to school and get a job at Space Center Houston. Dec 2018 I got my Associates in Mathematics.

At some point during all of this and I’m leaning more toward late ‘15 early ’16 I went to visit my grandparents. My brother was living with them. He says he needs to talk to me so we go outside.

He said he had done somethings to me a brother never should. He apologized. He said drugs aren’t an excuse for what he’s done. He said that someone had done it to him so he thought it was okay to do the same.

I was stunned into silence—just like when he was in rehab setting boundaries. Everything came flooding back. It had happened when I was still very young, I know I was somewhere between 10 because I hadn’t started my period yet and that was at 11 and he was still in school (he was a dropout). He performed oral sex on me and made me reciprocate. I had no idea what was happening but I knew it was wrong. I think it may have happened more than once, but I know that this set a foundation for my anxiety and my inability to say no or speak up to defend myself. I was petrified when I told one of his friends what he had done to me and he asked me to do the same for him. Then he went bragging to my brother about it and my brother started to fight him and yell racial slurs saying he never wanted to see him around our house again and that was my fault. They had a falling out because of me.

My parents said that any girl who does exactly what she’s asked in a sexual context, who doesn’t put up a fight, has no respect for herself. If you don’t respect yourself no one else would either. My parents didn’t respect me then, and if I told them, I knew they would blame me for having no self-respect. So I ignored it. Pretended like it never happened. I convinced myself that I had made it up. I was sick and disgusting for imagining these things. For years, even after rehab, I thought it was all in my head. He was always my favorite brother. I always wanted to do what he did. He played baseball, I signed up for T-ball; he joined swim team, so did I; he was a goalie, I became one too. And I kept up that illusion.

To this day I have only had a less than five minute conversation with him about what he did and that was his “apology” which was just another one of his 12-steps. I feel like it wasn’t even real.

 So here we are now 2019. September 6th is my three year anniversary at Space Center Houston. And I have transferred to a 4-year school to get my bachelor’s in Geology. I have moved to Shreveport. 

From here on out this blog is going to be about what I think of as I’m getting use to living on my own in a city that I’m only vaguely familiar with as a new transfer student who is nearly 24 years old.  

[prettyboiiharringrove]

Imaginary Friends

Witches && Prey i // read part two here // read on ao3

warnings: mentions of blood, suicidal ideation, actual suicide, major character death, child abuse, addiction, forced drug use, this shit is like emo as hell i’m not going to lie to you. this part does not have a happy ending i’m sorry fam, witchy steve, my sad boiis. I’m so sorry this took so long, I hope you guys love it. the rest are on the way

Harringrove Halloween Countdown — October 12

Demons like to prey on the weak, things are just easier that way. Maybe a little messier, but sometimes vulnerable kids and drug addicts are more convenient, more simple, more breakable; sad to say Billy Hargrove is both and that makes him easy prey, no matter how rabid he pretends to be.

Billy lost his mother young, hardly knew her, and Neil Hargrove, the closest to a monster a human can get, soul already rotten and deteriorating, finds that a small lonely boy with mommy issues and a bad habit of poor judgement and misplaced loyalty will do whatever is asked of him if it guarantees him his father’s approval.

Billy used to be able to fall asleep if Neil promised him chocolate chip waffles and tucked him in at night, but then Neil got lonely and angry, and he noticed that all he had to do was promise not to hit Billy and to hold him while he cried and Billy would fall asleep. Billy grew, Neil’s arms got tired, and his restraint deteriorated. The thought of having to promise Billy he wouldn’t hit him just made him want to hurt him more, so instead he would sit with his bloody son, help him wash up, and crush up some pain pills in his dinner, sneak some sleeping meds into his water.

When Neil starts dating Susan and going out for dinner instead of staying in with Billy, Billy can’t understand why he shakes and vomits, why everything hurts despite Neil not being home to lay a finger on him, not until he hears his mother’s voice urging him to wipe the sick off his face and crawl to his father’s room. He finds the pills in his father’s bedside table. What hurts the most is that he isn’t surprised; his father has been drugging him every damn night to the point of addiction, and he’s only fifteen.

“How long?” he’s unsure why he’s speaking, knows that hearing his mother’s voice must have been a hallucination, a product of his drug addled brain coming down from withdrawal.

“Does it matter?” she whispers, and Billy can feel her sit down next to him even though he can’t quite see her, just notices that where he’s looking through her, the picture is a bit distorted; then again, that could be his own tears obstructing his vision.

“Guess not,” he whispers, pouring a few of the pills in his hands and gagging a bit as he swallows them dry. He feels disappointment in the air, maybe even a little anger, but he hears nothing more. He doesn’t hear from his mother until the weekend when Neil goes out to dinner with Max and Susan and leaves Billy to clean up the house.

——————

This goes on for eight months until Billy finally realizes why he senses disappointment every time he pops those pills. She wants him to take more, wants him to down both bottles in one go.

“I’m so lonely baby. Come on, you don’t want to be with him anymore. Don’t you remember how good I was to you ??” it sends chills down his spine, but he finds himself inclined to listen. Even so, he denies her, he decides to live, even if just a little longer.

——————

Neil marries Susan after ten months, and packs everyone up and moves them to Hawkins after eighteen. Billy has no one. No more friends, not a loving father, and he thinks he’s leaving his mother behind, even worse his dealer. Neil’s supply was weak and dwindling, and Billy could put on a good show with his protein shakes and ridiculous workouts, but without his pills, he’d turn into a sad sack of shit. His theory is that it’s probably a lot harder to score prescription drugs in Indiana than California; for whatever fucking reason though, Neil refuses to leave him behind.

He’s angry, and lonely, and when his mother shows up a few days later he’s so relieved to see her, to have someone by his side, that he almost takes her up on her invitation. He doesn’t though, because tomorrow’s Halloween and maybe he can get in one good fuck before he says goodbye to his shithead father and small town Hawkins.

He doesn’t expect to be so enamored with Steve though. Steve Harrington seems like the type of guy worth moving to some place as shitty as Hawkins for; if he was less rich kid asshole and his snooty little girlfriend were to get hit by a car, King Steve would be his fucking dream.

He can’t get Steve out of his head, and the more enamored he becomes with the fucking princess, the less his mom comes around, and when she is around she seems angry. Billy hates having her upset with him, especially since she’s the only thing that makes him feel safe anymore. He downs a few extra pills when he sees her; not enough to do serious damage, but enough to signify a promise. Some day he’ll say yes; it seems to appease her for a while.

——————

The night of the fight, Billy barely makes it home. It makes sense that whatever was in that syringe took a little while to put him on the ground considering it practically takes horse tranquilizers to get him to sleep these days; if he was willing to go anywhere close to Max any time soon, he might think to ask her where the hell she got it, since it seemed to be the good stuff.

He’s just out of it enough to forget how fucking stupid he’ll be if he walks through that door without Max by his side. His first thought is to crawl into his warm bed, his second thought was that he didn’t have the time or energy to run or fight. He’s on the ground fast and he tastes his own blood. He doesn’t know why, but it somehow tastes differently than when Steve had hit him. It doesn’t take long for Neil to back off. He hears Susan get out of the bathroom after her shower and shoves Billy in his room before he can even think.

His mother comes. He says yes. Suddenly he’s pressing the pill bottle to his lips, and for the first time he notices the name on the bottle, the person it was actually prescribed to. Vivian Harrington. Billy can’t help but laugh, the fucking pretty boy probably sold his mom’s sleeping pills for a pretty penny just to piss her off because god knows he didn’t need the money. Somehow he gets it in his head that he needs to see Steve one last time before he goes, that he needs to apologize otherwise he’s no better than Neil.

“Not yet,” he whispers, setting the bottle on the floor; it falls to its side, a few spilling out. Billy’s used to the disappointment his mother feels by now, but he’s burned by a flash of her rage. She calms herself quickly; Billy’s terrified.

“Soon though, right Billy?? We’ll be together soon ??” Billy nods, makes sure to never break a promise to her again, otherwise she might take matters into her own hands.

——————

The concept of seeing Steve’s face one last time takes a while. It starts out with two major problems ; one — the face Billy wants to see isn’t the one that’s all battered and bruised thanks to his fists. Billy wants to see those dimples, and that smooth skin, that award winning smile, the way he rolls his eyes and scrunches his nose up. Steve doesn’t fully heal for at least three weeks. Two — Billy doesn’t actually know how to apologize for shit like this. Neil hasn’t apologized for beating his ass since he was eleven. It takes him almost two months to muster up the courage, and Steve is apparently over it by then, so he forgives him, thank fuck.

He thinks that should be it, time to go home, down a few pills, and actually be with his mother, to see her with his own eyes, to hold her in his arms, for his spirit to feel whole again even as his corpse lies lifeless on the floor. He thinks that’s going to be the case, until Steve awkwardly asks him if he’s going to that party tonight, like he feels obligated to make conversation even though he owes Billy nothing.

Billy feels butterflies but he smirks, stops thinking about what’ll happen after he dies and more about how nice it’ll be to kiss those plush lips before he goes.

“Only if you are pretty boy,” he doesn’t miss the way Steve blushes; he thinks getting to see that is worth dying for. He’ll be happy, so long as his last night on earth is with Steve.

——————

Billy’s last night on earth turns into five months of Steve rearranging his fucking guts with what Billy has affectionately come to call ‘the real king Steve’, and falling in love in with each other in the meantime. Billy’s mother turns dark and angry, and some nights as she sings Billy old lullabies, he can feel himself choking on thin air. He’s being punished, he knows he is in the same way he knows he somehow deserves every injury Neil gifts him, but he can’t let go of Steve.

His mother hates Steve, even though she’s never actually met him. Apparently he smells odd, which sure the Farrah Faucet hairspray has a unique fragrance, and yeah he smells like a lot of spices which is weird for someone who doesn’t actually bake, but Billy likes how Steve smells and his mom doesn’t have to like him. It doesn’t help that Steve has been slowly helping him come off the pills; she doesn’t want him to get better, not when she’s so so lonely, and Billy gets it, he does, because he used to be lonely too. His mother says Steve has stolen her baby away from her and really, she’s not wrong. Billy hopes she never tries to punish Steve should he enter the house.

On their sixth month anniversary, Steve sneaks over to Billy’s house because Billy’s supposed to watch Max, and he can’t exactly ask his dad to let him go out because then he’d have to come up with some bullshit lie that Neil would definitely look into, or admit he turned bitch for Steve Harrington, which probably would result in a very painful death. He isn’t ready to die anymore, not with Steve and certainly not at the hands of either of his parents. So, Steve being the entitled brat that he is decides to make his way over to Billy’s, and Billy is excited, he really truly is, but he’s also scared his mother will suffocate him and he’ll be all alone again.

Neil and Susan aren’t supposed to be back until morning, so they let Max fuck off to her friend’s house, mostly because it’s Hopper’s house too and he’s way more reliable when it comes to keeping kids alive; Steve just got lucky last year, so it’s probably better that way. That, and this way they get to fuck and then fall asleep curled on the couch.

He wakes up to feel a phantom hand around his throat, chokes out “Mom, please, m-mom,” as he tries to gasp for air.

“You promised !!” she growls, and Steve jolts awake. Billy hears Steve mumble something under his breath and then suddenly the woman — his supposed mother — he’s been talking to all these years comes to life, her skin a charcoal black, her eyes hollow. Billy can breathe again, but he almost forgets to.

“Get away from him !!” Steve barks and Billy thinks he sees sparks fly from Steve’s fingertips, but he’s also still dizzy from the lack of oxygen and he’s kind of seeing stars. He barely has time to react before she’s lunging at Steve. He wants to beg for mercy, swear to go with her if she’ll just leave Steve alone, but the words won’t come out. Even more shocking, as she hurdles herself towards Steve, the bright light that originally seemed like small static sparks grows, flowing from Steve’s fingertips without warning, preventing her from touching him. Each time she tries to touch the light, she hisses, until she becomes too weak to keep fighting and retreats; Billy knows she’ll be back, she always comes back.

The first thing Steve does is pull Billy into his lap and check him for any injuries that weren’t already there from Neil. There’s some new bruising around his neck but that’s it. Billy notices that his fingertips are still hot, but they don’t burn, they seem to sooth him, to offer up some relief. After a few moments Steve grabs the blanket they had been sharing, wraps it around Billy, and drags him to the kitchen.

Steve gets to work the second he finds out where Susan keeps all the spices, and Billy moves to sit on the counter and watch him. Billy’s either exhausted, in shock, or far too used to trauma, because he isn’t freaking out like he probably should be.

Ten minutes later Steve is shoving a mug in his face. It smells weird, and if he didn’t just watch Steve make it, he would assume it was that fancy French tea Steve’s mom buys that he always makes him drink after a particularly rough night with Neil. He’s starting to wonder if it’s ever actually been tea. He gets this sick feeling in his stomach, similar to when he found out Neil had been drugging him, except he trusts Steve. He chugs it down, ignores how his fingers twitch when he stops himself from going to grab the bottle of pills he keeps hidden for the really bad nights. After a few moments, the soreness around his throat and in his muscles starts to ease up, the itch for his fix starts to fade and now all he craves is Steve. He doesn’t have to ignore that need for long, not when Steve steps between his legs and holds Billy’s face in his hands, looking concerned.

“How you feeling baby?” Steve questions nervously, and Billy shrugs like he always does, because he feels sad, and scared, and betrayed but nothing hurts anymore, and nothing’s ever going to change, so it’s whatever.

“Baby, I need you to answer me. Creatures like that, they’re really dark and really powerful. I need to know you’re okay,” his thumb brushes gently against Billy’s cheek and normally that would sooth him, but this time Steve’s said something that’s got him worried.

“Creature?”

“Yeah, a shadow beast, a demon. That monster, you saw it right ?”

“She’s not a monster,” Billy argues sadly, because she had just tried to kill him, and it was all too similar to Neil, but this was different, Billy broke his promise.

“Billy it was choking you, of course it’s a monster,” Steve looks concerned but also extremely confused, which sucks because if they both don’t know what the hell is going on, they might be here for a while.

“I told her I would go with her, I told her soon, but I chose you. She’s not a monster, she’s just hurt.”

“What?!” Steve sounds angry then, and Billy jumps at the noise, still on edge from his mother’s hand gripping around his throat less than thirty minutes ago, still skittish from when Neil kicked him in the shin and then the ribs the day before. Steve can’t yell, not when Billy’s still so scared and he knows that, but he’s worried and it’s hard to keep his cool at a time like this. Still, he takes a few moments to steel himself. He looks at Billy with soft eyes, noting that he’s still a bit shaken up, whether he’ll admit that or even notices being a completely different issue, and realizes that he has to be the voice of reason in this situation. “Baby, why would you make that promise? If things have gotten bad again, you can tell me…”

Bad again Steve says and they both hate how it sounds, because if Steve isn’t with Billy, caging him in his arms and keeping him safe, things are never good, but if Billy was feeling suicidal again, that’s something they need to discuss.

“It’s not like that,” and well, that’s not really a lie because most nights the only thing that makes Billy want to give up is sensing his mother’s frustration or feeling Neil’s knuckles kneed and mark his skin. He doesn’t want to die, not if it means leaving Steve behind, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped considering it completely. He swallows hard, pulls Steve closer to him using his ankles that are loosely wrapped around his legs just above his knees, and rests his head on Steve’s chest. “She’s my mom,” he admits, and the whisper is nearly as faint as the breeze creeping in through the open kitchen window.

“No she’s not,” as soon as the words leave Steve’s mouth, tears brim in Billy’s eyes. He didn’t think it would hurt this much, Steve assuming he’s crazy. He saw her though, he knows she’s real, so this isn’t fair. He’s supposed to feel safe with Steve, but now he just feels stupid and small.

“I’m not crazy,” he whines where his head is rested on Steve’s right pectoral. Steve feels the fresh tears dripping down his skin. He hates how it makes Billy tremble. He hushes Billy, kisses the top of his head, and sighs. This night just keeps getting longer and longer.

“No one said you were.”

“But you said…you said she’s not —” Billy cuts himself off, trying to keep from sobbing. If Steve is going to judge him, he’s not going to make it worse by being a cry baby.

“I’m sure she said she was your mom. I’m sure she played her game well, said all the right things, but that thing is not your mother. She’s a leech. She preys on those who are hurting, and she found you when you were at your worst.”

Billy wants to argue, but he clings to Steve, shakes his head because he doesn’t want to believe him, but after what he had just seen, the pieces of this puzzle are starting to come together and it’s scaring him.

“No, y-you’re wrong, I know my own mom Steve, I know her,” he doesn’t though. He can barely remember what she looks like. He simply knows what he wants her to be, and this woman or monster that he’s been talking to was good enough. Three years she’s been whispering in his ear, telling him he was loved and wanted. It was so easy to fall for her.

Steve shakes his head. If the circumstances were different, he might just let Billy lives in blissed out ignorance, but Billy was nearly killed tonight, and he can’t sit idly by and let him believe the woman trying to steal him away is someone worthy of his love. He may not be able to stop Neil, not yet anyways, but he can protect Billy from this bit of darkness. If he were the type to pray, he would be begging God that it’s not too late.

“Listen to me, I don’t know who she is and I don’t care, but she tried to kill you tonight Billy. I’ll bet she’s been trying to for a long time,” he doesn’t miss how Billy whimpers; facing the truth hurts almost as much as a harsh blow from Neil. If he thinks too much he can still feel fingernails digging crescent moons into his flesh, both from his father and this mystery phantom. Steve knows by the way Billy tries to hide himself further in Steve’s bare skin that he’s not wrong. “You trust me right ?? You know me. I’m always going to be here for you, I’m gonna protect you.”

Billy finds comfort in the promise, mostly because it’s always been Steve that he chose above everyone else, and now he’s starting to see why. Steve is the only good decision he’s ever made.

——————

It’s a week later when he’s laying in Steve’s bed and he feels the bed dip with weight. At first he’s relieved; he doesn’t like being alone, especially not in a house as big and lifeless as Steve’s. All relief fades when he doesn’t feel Steve’s familiar warmth washing over him. He begins to shiver and when he rolls over to reach for Steve he is met by a cold black gaze. She’s back, his not-mom is back and she followed him to Steve’s house.

He knows what she wants, but he can’t give it to her, not when he knows she’s nothing to him but a liar, an omen of pain, his own sadistic, impatient reaper. He has no idea where Steve is and he can’t go with her without knowing that Steve is safe.

“Go away,” he tries to sound forceful and angry, but it’s clear to see he’s terrified. The figure beside him smirks.

“Don’t be like that sweetie, I’m just here to collect what’s mine,” she whispers, her tongue practically dripping with sugar, her sickeningly sweet disposition making Billy shrink away.

“I’m not yours, I’m nothing to you,” he knows it’s not smart to mouth off to her, but he’s so hurt and angry, and Steve isn’t there to protect him or talk him down, so he’s just going to shoot off at the mouth until she leaves or kills him.

“Don’t say that,” she growls, grabbing him by the jaw. “I’m more of a mother to you than yours ever was. She’s dead William, she’s rotten flesh, dirty bones in the ground somewhere. And your father ?? He’s nothing, he’s a beast. I’m the one who’s been here !! I’m the one who has looked after you all this time. Me, no one else, not even that pretty little thing. He’ll leave too you know, he’ll realize you’re not worth it. I’m the only one who stays with you, haven’t you learned that by now ?!”

“That’s not true !!” maybe, somewhere deep down, Billy actually believes that, but the words coming out of her mouth aren’t exactly new and original ideas. Billy’s last boyfriend was some thirty year old who beat his ass for ‘breaking in’ when his wife caught Billy asleep in their bed. He hasn’t heard from a single friend from California since he left. Neil might not even come down to the morgue to identify his body if he was found dead in a ditch somewhere. Tommy and Carol might miss him, but they have each other, and short attention spans; they’ll move on fast. Steve is too good for him; he’s been eerily awaiting the day he decides Billy isn’t worth his time anymore.

“You know it’s true, don’t deny it. You made me a promise, and you need to keep it. Maybe they’ll miss you at first, but eventually you’ll just be another sad small town tragedy, like that Barb girl. You don’t matter, not to them, only to me. So come with me, stop playing games.”

“Not here, I can’t do it here.”

“That pretty boy of yours is taking a shower. I’m sure we can sneak out before he’s done. He won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“You’re probably right,” Billy sighs, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a goodbye letter. She doesn’t seem to mind; she’s too giddy from having finally won their game.

——————

He’s in the kitchen, hands trembling as he faces the options he’s given. There’s the all too familiar pills, a block of kitchen knives, and Neil’s gun.

The pills feel like a betrayal; Steve has worked so hard to help Billy be a better, stronger person, he can’t go out like that.

The gun is messy, and although he knows Neil will get satisfaction out of his death no matter what, he feels like using his father’s bullets gives him too much power.

The knife is messy too, and as much as he loves the idea of being one last inconvenience, one big ugly red stain in Neil Hargrove’s reputation as well as his kitchen tile, he knows it’s going to be Hopper, or Susan, or god forbid Steve, cleaning up his mess.

“I can’t do this,” he bites down on his now bloodied lip as tears spill down his cheeks. “I can’t do this without him, I can’t leave him.”

“Then don’t. Billy, baby, please,” Billy jumps; he hadn’t noticed Steve walk into the house.

Billy hears his demon scoff, but soon she’s chuckling, something thick and dirty, like she knows something he doesn’t. This time Steve can’t hear her. His eyes stay locked on Steve. Billy wishes he could say this was the first time Steve has caught him in a situation like this, but it’s not. This time it’s different though. Billy is closer to death than he’s ever been.

“You know,” she begins, smooth tone wrapping around Billy like velvet. “We could take him too pet. This world, it’s no good for people like you, and we could have a little witch on our team. It could be so much fun, and neither of you will ever be alone again,” she nudges the knives towards him  as a gentle hint.

“No, no, not him, please, he’s good,” Billy begs; he won’t mind if his last words, his dying breath are used to protect Steve.

“I know he’s good sweetheart, you’re both so good. Come on, don’t you want him, forever??” She’s always known just what to say. Billy wants him so desperately; he wants to hold Steve and never let go, but more than anything he wants Steve to be safe and happy.

He nods, swallows hard and turns away from Steve.

“Billy, come on, it’s gonna be okay,” Steve’s tone is gentle, cautious, like he’s approaching a scared, caged animal. He’s always known the best way to talk to Billy.

He picks up the butcher knife and turns to Steve. Steve steps back, and Billy can’t blame him. He knows how this looks. Billy’s thought about killing on more than one occasion, but even when he was pummeling Steve with his fists, he was never really the target of his aggression.

“If I do this, you promise it’ll be over?? It won’t hurt anymore ??”

“Yes,” they both whisper, tones soft and patient. Yes, the pain will stop once you shed blood, she means. Yes, the pain will stop if you put the knife down and come to me, Steve means. He wants to believe Steve, but there has always only ever been one clear ending for Billy, and he decides to stop putting it off.

He raises the knife to his throat, and Steve looks more scared than he did when the knife was aimed at him. Steve tries to move quick and stop him, but that just rushes Billy’s shaking hand. The cut is rough and he tastes blood within an instant. It burns and he’s having trouble keeping himself up.

“You’re such a good boy,” the demon finally shows herself to the world, and Steve isn’t surprised, just angry. It’s the last Billy sees of her, because she’s smart enough to leave before getting into another fight with Steve.

The last thing he sees is Steve’s face, so soft and loving. He wishes he weren’t crying, but beggars can’t be choosers. The last thing he feels is Steve cradling and shaking his cold aching body in his warm arms. The last thing he hears is “Baby please, don’t leave me, please. I love you.”

His final thought is one of both guilt and appreciation. There’s no better way to die than by Steve Harrington’s side.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

My mom worked in a bar, a bartender, weekend nights as she went to school to be a nurse. My dad just wanted to be a musician. So I grew up in the bar.

That's my mom.

So I met Jesse in the bar. He taught me to play poker. I was extremely skilled at it. So i became a hot shot at age one. I would win bets all kinds. Who would think a kid in diapers could win at poker?

They didn't even know i potty trained myself and didn't piss nor shit in my diaper but panties were too small for me.

So i wore a diaper.

My dad was in the military, too. But someone told him he could go with them to get a music career started.

That is how he got kidnapped.

My mom went to look... Followed the same guy into the parking lot and got kidnapped.

She left me in the bar. The guy said my dad was outside all drunk and bottled up. "Oh I'll be right back"

So I tended bar for the rest of the night. Locked up when everyone left. Slept on the floor.

I looked for my mom but it was cold and the air felt strange. Danger like. Still and eerie. Bad.

So i went in, shut the door and locked it. Yelled "mom i locked it but you can come in" just in case she could hear. May be she was in a car talking to my dad. I yelled for 10 minutes. A couple men went to the door but i refused to open it. Cried myself to sleep in the floor. Scared for my parents.

It was two days before anyone noticed it was weird I was making margaritas and serving beer. One and a half year old tending bar. No one thought it was weird . i was a hot shot.

I told every one I couldn't find my mom. They didnt care. Just another beer.

It wasn't till Monday night that any one noticed and that's only cause that's when the new bartender showed up.

So i helped her that night. She was impressed. When i locked the door from the inside and got myself ready to sleep in the same place i cried myself to sleep in before...

The door opened and light spilled in, "mom?"

But it was the late night bartender, "oh you." She closed the door and locked it. "You can't stay here"

"I can. I been here since Friday. I can lock the door. Im safe. I can be, too"

"There's kidnappers outside"

"Yeah since Friday and they took my mom and I serve them beer and they don't pay. Just walk out. I should beat them up"

She took me to Miss Leena's house the next morning. We both slept in the bar floor. In front of the locked door.

"Miss Leena, i don't know what to do" she said.

Miss Leena kept me in the trailer park. Out of foster care. Let me go wherever whenever.

I never saw my parents again.

I saw George a few times. But he wasn't a man. Some monster. Some sick in the head creep. This thing with legs and arms and a head. No heart.

That's when I learned the difference between a me problem and a you problem. Even when it came to families, there was rarely an Us problem.

He's been eradicated. There was no hope of healing him and i being able to tolerate him if he did heal.

My Uncle wasn't the best father. I'll be curt. But thats because he knew I had a dad out there somewhere. But he was the best father i had. He never hit me or sexually abused me. He defended me. Stood up for me. Took care of me and supported me.

He is a real man.

Point is. One day you'll be almost two years old tending bar alone. Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

And no one will care. They will think it's neat.

And yeah it is. Its fun doing moms job. And doing it well.

But comes the point that you're an orphan. Locked in the bar with kidnappers outside, crying yourself to sleep on the floor, in front of the door. Hoping you may not be. An Orphan.

Wearing the same clothes. Same diaper. And keeping it so clean that by Monday the late late night bartender doesn't realize you've been in them 4 days.

That photo above was taken the night she disappeared. I was in the bathroom. There's one of me with her, the same night.

The last photo we took together. Before I took one next to her coffin. I was two then.

The person sitting on Jupiter killed and raped her. For no reason other than he was outlaw Jesse James. So he named himself. He was rich. His father a store owner down the street. Sold groceries. Got women's names and addresses off checks. The son Jesse did.

Self-entitled Jack ass.

For no reason im an orphan.

If they were in a car wreck or something that would be tragic and dangerous. But murdered so the criminal wouldn't get in trouble for rape. Kidnapped for ransom the military refused to pay.

Doesn't make sense to me.

They never even bothered to look for my father.

I did. But by the time I found him, he was no longer a man.

"Don't forget i raised you"

I was 3. Half my life i raised myself and more than half the life i had with him he was working.

"I don't even know you -- Do you -- are you saying you want to come home?"

"Not yet im working"

"You want to come home and be my dad?"

"No I've told you time and time again I'm working"

What piece of shit says that. I spent nearly 2 years looking for him to take him home. He was too busy mopping floors?

I saw him again 5 years later... Just gassing people. Anyone he could get in a room. Like a Nazi. Kids. Moms. Didn't matter.

So i sorted out the evil ones for about a year so he wasn't killing innocent people. But then he turned on me. And I left.

He was gonna end up killing me. I called the police. Had him arrested.

Spent 2 years in The penitentiary.

I was 9 when he got out. We moved the year before so he couldn't find me.

I killed Pablo Escobar the year after he got out.

He did have ways to find me, though. Steal my kids and freeze them and put them in car panels.

Never made sense why he would. Just crazy I guess.

He used to be a good man.

But after he did that to me. He had to been eradicated.

He couldn't see past his crazy to ser his own daughter. I can see going nuts and being afraid to leave. But then...

Why attack me? Take my kids.

There was no reason

He took my father away from me.

He had no right to take anything else.

I grew up with a photo of him in our house. I don't know if he was crazy then. Evil.

I know I am. Crazy. But there's a difference between caring and not.

Her name was Deborah Anne. I think she was lucky to die.

My dad became a herion addict. Shooting up with needles 19 pints a day of black tar herion. Which pints is a term like nickel. Dime or quartet in marijuana. It means full 5 cc needle one hour a day sleeping 5 hours a day.

5 mL of black tar herion 19 times a day.

That's 95 mL of herion.

3.212 ounces

A cup is 8 ounces so it's nearly a half cup and you know sometimes he did at least 3/4 of a cup.

Not around me... Because.. One time i told him "why don't you just get a bigger needle? I mean syringe? The tube part?"

"Get away from me. You're not smarter than me"

"Yeah well sure but you're doing it every 15 minutes"

And while pints is a term like nickel or dime... My dad really did 19 liquid pints of herion a day.

So when I was around I made him feel dumb, insecure and selfish. So he did less.

"Who is taking care of you?"

"I work. I have a job. I make more money than you"

"I make none. You could make a penny and its more than what I -- hey you think you could buy me herion off the street? I think it's better than what i got. Or maybe not im told it's pure. Never mind you're a kid. No buy me some. I said buy me some. I didn't mean to grab your arm"

"Like a mad man all crazy? Because you did"

"I didn't mean to. I said i didn't mean to!" Injecting his arm again

"Hey fill these up for me again. Do something useful"

"Talking to you ain't useful?"

"Not if you want me to go home it ain't. I'm the boss"

"Give me the syringe. How come if you're the boss you're only bossing me? Where's everyone else?"

"At work they know what to do"

I start laughing. And laughing. "There is no one! I sent them home! All is left is you!!"

"Then I'll start gassing. If they escape i have to gas who is left and they start over"

"You could just go home like they do"

"You mean escape? I'll start gassing"

"There is no one left but you. Come on I'll show you"

"Nope bring them to me. Ill start gassing the place up let them burn. I like that. Like im a Nazi"

"The who? I'm calling the police" i pick up the phone "911" i dial im not playing. He's fucking crazy. "My dad said he will start gassing. Hes all doped up and" my dad stopped shooting up to stare at me "you don't know what you're saying!!!" He stormed the floor and grabbed the phone and hung up

"Don't you call the police on me again. Im just doing my job"

"You're shooting up" i stood to get the phone

He snatched it "I said do not call the police on me again!" He stood over me not like a threat but as a threat

"I'm gonna puke"

"And she did. You know you ain't gotta say every nasty thing you gotta do to me. Now that's gonna stink. Dad let's go home every two goddam minutes." He snatched the trash can from me and i fell. "Oh my God it's the police! How did they get here so fast?!?! You didn't even give them the address. They're going to think I'm herion dealing. And it's just for me!"

"Dad they're the CIA they're here to help!"

"Oh my God i was in the military. They don't care. Now it's the CIA. They don't care"

"Dad i care. Please"

"You're just a kid"

"I work for the CIA"

"No you don't. You're just a lying." He leans down towards me and whispers "why don't they just Come in?" And he shoved me.

He hit me in the side of the head. Covered my mouth with his hand. I shoved him off. He pulled me by my hair.

"QUIT!!!! IM SO SICK OF YOUR SHIT!!!"

He acted like i beat him.

"I'm opening the door stay calm" i opened the door. "Arrest him. I think he broke my teeth"

I held my face and felt sad

"Sabrina, I've seen you be hurt worse than that. Are you sure you're okay?" Asked Matt Hagan's FBI grandpa.

"Its just my dad. It hurts more because emotionally. Im going to cry. I'll just lay my head on This desk and cry awhile"

Of course my dad was out the next week to gas people and kill them. Of course he was.

[doctor-paprika]

Heroin sucks.

I have no followers, so I guess I am using this as a diary entry that no one will see but can help me vent a bit.

I am learning how to tumblr so have been randomly searching any interests that come to mind. Of course, one of the first I could think of was heroin/addiction recovery, but very few results came up. After that, I stupidly just searched the word “heroin” and the results really brought me down (lower than I already was, which was surprising.)

A few accounts were splattered with pictures of Kurt Cobain, which didn’t surprise me. Soon I saw several accounts with videos of people shooting up, people talking about how much they love heroin and other drugs, and of course, people talking of how they may be addicts, but they aren’t dirty junkies!

When I was 14 I began eating pills. Benzos were fun, but opiates were my favourite. I took them from medicine cabinets and kept myself in steady supply that way. Years passed, I graduated high school, fell in and out of a few relationships, and eventually began seeing someone who had been using heroin for a while. They would leave the room to shoot up, but one night I told them to stay, and I asked them to share.

I was 19, had a good job, a reliable car, over $4k in the bank I had earned every penny of on my own, a good relationship with my parents, and a few people I called friends.

I don’t want to sit here and put down my partner at the time because it is counterproductive. All I will say is that they were 26, had never had a job, a driver’s license, a high school diploma, but got lots of money given to them without question by their mother.

I say this just to give you (the person who is not reading this) an idea of my situation at the time.

I loved my first shot. There was no mark left on my arm, which shocked me. Before this, I had needed four nurses to hold me down to get a tetanus shot, but suddenly the fear was gone. I didn’t want to bring up doing it again, so was very excited when my partner asked a few days later if I would like to join them in shooting up again. The second time was even better than the first.

The lies came quickly. Calls to my job, claiming my car was broken down. Calls to my parents coming up with various reasons as to why I wouldn’t be home that night. The few friends I had became unimportant, I had new “friends” that I met through my partner, and they either sold, used, or both.

A few months after I turned 20 I quit my job, officially moved in with my partner, and had begun to spend almost every moment of every day coming up with ways to get heroin. I felt like a cool adult, able to make my own decisions and get high whenever I wanted! What fun!

Without having to pay for food, rent, or anything but heroin, I ran out of my $4k in less than a year. I had been saving all of my money from age 15-19 and it was gone in just a few months. I also got my car taken from me by my parents. My partners mom knew that we used, she sobbed about it, yelled about it, and acted like it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her… but would still give us $100-300 a day so we wouldn’t get sick, and provided a nice, new car for us.

I was lucky to live in the Bay Area, because all it took was a fifteen minute drive to Oakland and I had access to dozens of dealers. There were also many needle exchanges around the city in which each person could get 400 free, new clean needles and all the ties, cooks, cottons, and anything else a heroin addict could need, including a limited supply of Narcan - which I always kept on me after having OD’d myself once and watching another friend OD, and having us both be saved by the opioid antagonist.

Oh, and I began smoking crack. Lots of crack. Crack was great! And heroin was a perfect comedown! I was awake most hours of every day, and spent almost every second of those hours worrying about how the next hour would go.

By the time my parents found out about my use, I was 22. They had been my best friends and now we were completely out of contact. My mom would occasionally stop by the apartment my partner and I shared with their mom, but by then I had begun living in the car we had, because being in Oakland all the time was easier than having to drive there every day.

My partners mom would occasionally go through periods where she decided to cut us off. She was married to an alcoholic whose health was declining so had to tend to his addiction more than ours at that point. I had never imagined myself having to fly a sign for money, but now I was doing it all day, every day, and most of the time was stuck standing out there sick. Lots of homeless people live on the streets of Oakland, so to get a good spot to stand you needed to get out early, and find some confidence to fight others who wanted your spot. I had shit thrown at me, usually open drink containers, I got yelled at to get a job, to get the fuck off the median, to kill myself. I didn’t understand what I was doing to offend these people so bad. My least favorite part was the men who would hold out a dollar, just to pull it in once I got close and show me their dick before laughing and driving off - and the worst of that was one who actually came on my hand, he could have at least gave me the dollar after!

Once my partners mom was at the hospital daily with her rapidly declining husband, waiting for him to get a liver transplant that eventually came too late, we began staying at the apartment more. Every wall became covered in blood spatter, shot from rigs that had become blocked with coagulated blood. You could not see one inch of the floor, as it was covered in used rigs and bloody rags. Surprisingly, we didn’t get the security deposit back! I will always feel terrible that I let my cat live in that fucked up place.

I joined a methadone clinic a few times to try to avoid going through withdrawal, but I would always stop going because the drive there took away time I could have spent flying my sign, smoking crack, or shooting dope.

I was 23, my job was flying a sign, my car was in three accidents that left it barely functioning, had no money for longer than a few minutes (more usually a few hours because dealers were generally slow movers), was out of contact with my parents for thirteen months, and I didn’t have one friend. I had also gotten below 90lbs, which didn’t go well with my 5'8" body - inside or out. You know you’re at rock bottom when you have old crack dealers with no teeth telling you how unhealthy you look.

You know what my most commonly used phrases during those years were? • “I’m not a junkie, I’m a functioning addict!” • “I’m not a dirty crackhead, I take showers, brush my teeth, and wash my face (in the bathroom at Safeway.)” • “My parents/friends are so stupid, they don’t get that I’m totally fine. I’m better than fine, this stuff makes me feel great! If they tried it, they’d know!” • “I know *drug dealers name* takes a long time to meet up, but we’re friends! Not like how it is for them with all the junkies out here!” • “I’ve never had to whore myself out, I’ve never been to jail, I’m not like these nasty junkies out here..”

You know what kind of things I did that I thought were totally normal and definitely didn’t make me a mentally ill drug abuser? • searched the floor of my car for lost crack rocks for hours, tearing apart any parts of it I could - one time even thinking I had found a big chunk of crack and immediately smoked it, but it was a popcorn kernel! Worst thing I’ve ever smelled or tasted. • gone through every inch of my partners mom’s room to find any loose change or gold jewelery I could sell. • sold every book, videogame, DVD, CD, and any item I owned that I could get even a dollar for, including things I had had since my childhood that had incredible sentimental value. • sold every Safeway giftcard my partners mother would give us for 75% of its value, knowing it meant my partner and I would have no food for the foreseeable future. ¹ • then spent the money we got for the giftcard on crack, knowing that without food in our system we would throw up bile after each hit. • had to shit so badly after taking a hit of crack that I went on a curb where others could see, in the middle of the day, and then taken another hit right when I was done. • taken suboxone sooner than I knew I should have, and proceeded to vomit non-stop while driving, followed my shitting my pants three times, selling a PS4 that belonged to my partners friend, and driving to meet a dealer while still vomiting and wearing my shit filled pants.

Too much information? Gross? It’s weird for me to talk about it, because I have incredibly bad anxiety and don’t like to be open about more than I have to be, but drug addiction is gross and people need to realize that. There are people out there buying clothes and accessories with “Xanax” and “Percoset” labeled on them! Alcohol is glamourized in the media all the time! And the worst part is, I get it. I get that feeling that of independence, that feeling of being cooler than others, that feeling of finally having found something to calm down my brain even a little bit and falling head over heels for it, that feeling of doing something illegal and scary and the adrenaline rush from it.

When I was in middle school there was an assembly where a man talked about his drug use. It ended with him saying quitting cigarettes was harder than quitting heroin. Once I got addicted to heroin, I knew that was complete bullshit. I wish there was a way to tell kids, adults, anyone who might be considering using that they should do anything else, that their lives can so easily be ruined for who knows how long, but unfortunately most will only learn from experience.

Addicts are demonized, we are looked at as scum, as monsters, as those you should stay far from. Addicts are people. Many addicts are brilliant minds that suffer from mental illnesses, some known and some not. I knew I was mentally ill, but the therapy groups gave me anxiety and the meds didn’t work quick enough so I took the route I felt would be easier, which proved to be the opposite. Addiction is a disease, whether people choose to believe it or not. The biggest argument I have heard against this is that addicts choose what has happened to them. Do you put down a diabetic, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they ate tons of pies and cakes every day? Do you put down a person with cancer, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they tanned themselves in the sun or under tanning booths every day? I chose to use heroin, I chose to use crack, I chose to eat pills, I chose to drink, but I did not choose to be an addict. Long before I did any of those drugs I was addicted to picking at my skin, addicted to cleaning, addicted to exercising and watching my diet very closely, but no on has ever put me down for having dermatillomania, for having OCD, or for having anorexia.

Those with mental illness are looked at as lesser beings, as being incompetent, as needing to be pushed aside and stepped on. But we are strong, we are bright, and we deserve love and acceptance.

I have been off of heroin since early 2014, but I will be celebrating my one year date of being completely clean and sober in eleven days. I never think about drugs anymore, until I see videos of others shooting up, text or images promoting the addict lifestyle, and unfortunately for me those are all too common and too easily found.

If you are an addict, ask for help. If you suffer from, or even think you may suffer from, any mental illness, ask for help. Even if it is hard to find at first, it is out there. Therapy, medications, rehabilitation and the like are out there.

But, you’re not reading this are you? Like I said, this is just a way for a rambling, ex-junkie to vent.

[pertaterswithcheese]

Kids. Parts 1, 2, &3

A/N: okey so I saw this thing about a kid getting all of their lunch money and giving it to an assassin to kill their abusive parent, and there was a post attached to that on how this would be Jason. Also the other post about Jason having this whole help network for the street kids if Gotham and so here is my trash contribution. (Also if this goes into many parts I can’t link them all since I am in mobile so they will be all on the same post, but separated by chapter.) Please enjoy! I am open to any criticism. I know I need it.

WARNINGS: mentions of abuse, swearing, torture, and murder.

**- means italics

++++- means break Chapter _ - means next chapter

Chapter 1:

The Red Hood. The most feared anti-hero in all of Gotham, is *livid*. Right now he was not on his way to kill a drug lord, he was not going to go shoot some bank robbers, or take down a giant Mafia boss. He was standing in front of someone he *had* to kill. Someone far worse than that.

In order to understand why he is going to go do this, another story must be told first.

++++

Jason was sitting in his safe house. He was exhausted from the recently finished mission and was about to go to sleep (in full costume mind you), until a knock at the door awoke him. He grabbed his gun and looked on his security feed.

“Mr. Hood can you open the door? I called yesterday -hic- and I did what the nice lady on the phone said, but it didn’t work, I need help.”

Jason knew that the rest if the batfamily was on the hotline, so he wasn’t sure who the kid spoke to. But this kid looked horrible. It looked like a broken arm, maybe two ribs, a black eye and he was limping on a leg.

He decided, against his better judgment, to ask on the intercom “How did you find this place?”

“I asked the lady w-with the firey hair where you were. She is with you sometimes so she had to know. She didn’t want to tell me so I followed her.”

“Damn it Kori.” He said with the intercom off. Jason remembered that day when Kori came to him and told him about the child that she ran across. He didn’t think anything of it at the time.

“Please I called Mr. Hood’s number and spoke to a nice lady. She told me to call the police but I knew that they wouldn’t do anything to help. I-I don’t have anyone else… Please… if he can’t help me, can you Mister?”

He decided to ask over the intercom “Who did you speak to?”

“I-I think her name was… orajel? I can’t remember, please Mister can you open the door?”

Jason smiled at the pronunciation of Oracle. He will never let her live this one down. “Why do you need Mr. Hood?”

“Because I need him to” The child started sobbing harder “do something for me.”

Jason put his gun away, went to go open the door, then dragged the kid in, and shut the door. He knelt down so he could be somewhat at the kids height

“M-Mr. Hood?” The kid was in worse shape that Jason thought. Not only did he look like he got hit by a truck, he was also malnourished.

“Yeah it’s me. Now let’s get you fi-” The kid quickly reached into his pocket, pulled something out and shoved it it Jason’s hand. Jason looked in his hand and saw two crumpled up dollars, three dirty pennies and some bloody lint “Kid what are you-”

“ I-I need you to kill my guardian, I know it’s not much, but it’s all I could find. Please I can’t go back. Look, I will do what I can to pay off what I owe you but-”

Jason gave the kid back their money sat them on the couch, and picked up his phone “Dick, there is a kid here I need you to get to Alfred. Come to my safe house ASAP.” He hung up the phone and turned to the kid. “Keep the money kid. The’re a dead man walking.”

Chapter 2:

Jason drove to the residence of the kid. It was one of the worst apartment complexes in all of Gotham. As he made his way up the fire escape to the apartment, he got a call from Dick. “Sup Dickie bird.”

“Jason where did you find this kid?”

“Well the kid found me by following Kori to my safe house one day. Why?”

“The kid won’t say anything other than thank you and keeps apologizing for being a burden. Whoever did this to ‘em *has to* pay.”

“Already on it spandex.” Jason stood on the fire escape by the kids apartment. “Gotta go. I’m gonna make the fucker pay.”

He hung up on Dick and smashed through the window. He looked around and kept getting angrier by the second. Needles upon needles everywhere along with blood and a peed on blanket on the floor. He had his gun out and started searching for the asshole responsible. He found in the next room the “guardian” of the kid, laying on the ground with a needle in their arm and a bloodied crowbar in his hand.

Chapter 3:

Jason became *livid*. Not only did this vile creature use drugs, they beat a kid with a *fucking crowbar*. He was not having this. This was *personal*.

He went to go find the most sturdy chair in the house, some duct tape, and a lighter. This asswipe was not leaving alive.

++++

His watch showed that it was six A.M. Jason showed up at about four, and now it was six. In two hours he had managed to torture, beat (yes with the crowbar), and kill this mother fucker. He decided that he needed to catch Dick up on the situation, so at least the kid could get some closure.

He got up and gave Dick a call. “Hey wingding so how’s the kid?”

“Alfred was able to take care of ‘em. Hopefully the kid does better. It looks like Damian might be getting a little sibling. Bats wants to adopt ‘em.“ Jason was silent. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the Batman to gain another child like himself. Look how he turned out. “But I am willing to fight him for the kid. Babs and I want a kid so I think it will be for the best if we take the little bundle of joy.”

Jason smiled. He knew Dick and Babs would raise the kid right. “That I can support. Make sure to tell the kid that the fucker’s dead alright?”

Dick sighed on the other line. “Look Jay, I don’t know if that’s-”

“Look the kid paid me, so I am asking you to let my employer know that I did the job. Can you do that or do I gotta tell the kid myself?” He heard shuffling on the other line.

“M-Mr. Hood?” This kid sounded like they were in bad shape, but better than before.

“Yeah its me kid, did you get some food in ya?”

“Y-yes Mr. Hood. Your butler makes really good food. Better than what my mom used ti make when she was still around…”

Jason smiled. Go Alfred. “Well I wanted to let you know that it’s done. You won’t have to worry about your guardian’ ever again.”

He heard the kid sob of joy. “Th-thank you -hic- Thank you Mr. Hood. Thank you. Please let me-”

“Get better kid and let them take care if you. That’s how you repay me.” Jason smiled under his helmet.

“I-I will Mr. Hood. Thank you.” The kid hung up and Jason sped back on his bike to his safe house. When he got there he immediately walked out on the balcony and lit a cigarette as the sun began to rise. *‘It’s days like these when you know you make a difference in Gotham.’*

[masterofhamsters]

Final thoughts about RWBY4

Okay, so after 15 weeks of volume 4, how do I feel? Well, let’s just say I was incredibly optimistic when the trailer dropped and now I regret every single defense I had as the episodes kept rolling out. Volume 4, while I personally don’t think it’s volume 2′s level of bad, is in a league of its own.

So what do we got? Volume 4 had a good premise: the characters we’ve grown to love for the past three years are now separated due to things out of their control. Now we have to see how they react to and deal with their individual situations on their own.

Though I became a late fan of the show (didn’t start watching until it was available on Netflix, long after Monty’s death), I could clearly see the flaws in it. Since I watch a lot of what people would consider bad anime, I let it slide. I’m quite the apologist when it comes to these things. So that’s why I wasn’t too bothered with some of the flaws in volume 3. Yeah, Pyrrha could’ve been much better executed. Had she had more attention as a character rather than a love interest in previous volumes, I think her death would’ve been loads better, but this was their first volume since Monty passed and they worked with what they had I don’t blame them. In fact, volume 3 was probably the best volume to date.

But things got really shaky in volume 4. Ruby is now with the remains of JNPR and the other girls are at home with their parents. Each characters’ stories have a different premise to them, from Yang’s PTSD to Weiss’s domestic abuse to Blake’s mixed feelings of going back home to Menagerie. The fact that the girls are separated for the first time had much potential to show what the girls were like as individuals rather than constantly playing off of each other. It gave us an opportunity to see another side of them we wouldn’t see otherwise.

However, that’s where the flaws of the volume come in. Up until this point, we’ve only had 12 episodes per volume with the exception of volume 1 (where we have 16; 10 if you’re following the Blu-ray’s episode count). Frankly, I was aware that there was no way they could’ve satisfactorily concluded four different stories in a span of 12 episodes. Throw in Jaune, Nora, and Ren in there with some new characters? Yeah, no way that was happening.

Speaking of new characters, let’s talk about them, shall we?

We have three new villains (six, if you count the new White Fang members), Hazel, Watts, and Tyrian, and a walking plot device in Oscar. Out of these four, only Tyrian has really done anything of note. The only reason why we believe the other two to be threats is because they talk down to Cinder, a person whose strength we can already measure for ourselves. Meanwhile Tyrian did advance the plot somewhat. He indirectly pulled Qrow out of hiding and helped made aware that Cinder wasn’t the top threat in the series to the characters. But even then, he doesn’t accomplish much. Granted, that one scene when he cried did humanize him a little, it made me feel like he was even less of a threat than he already was.

Now, fucking Oscar. Boy, this kid is a mess. His introduction was stupid for one thing, being in the first damn episode and us as the audience having no idea what the fuck it was about. Yeah, you can argue it was some sort of foreshadowing, but it was poorly done. It didn’t make me care for him in the slightest. In fact, I was actually annoyed whenever he was on screen. So far, we know nothing about him as a person. We know what he is: a farmer boy who’s for some reason harboring Ozpin’s soul. But we don’t know who he is. That bothers me on so many levels because he’s clearly an important character. I want to care about a character as a person more than a pivotal plot point.

Speaking of characters who are more plot points than people, let’s talk about our darling Ruby Rose. Now don’t get me wrong, I adore Ruby. She’s like my favorite female character in the entire show. But man does the writing fuck her over. So, after the events of volume 3, Ruby watched two of her friends die as a result of the Fall of Beacon. Now, for a 15 year old, you’d think that would be mentally traumatizing. But no, Ruby hasn’t reacted at all over the course of volume 4. Everything relating to Pyrrha’s death was for Jaune and Jaune alone. Hell, they didn’t even mention Penny until episode 11.

Really think about that. Ruby’s first real friend that didn’t try to judge her for who she is was only mentioned in a passive manner. Not only that, Ruby barely even reacts to it. They put all of Ruby’s development in this volume into a two-minute one-sided conversation between her and Jaune. The biggest flaw of Ruby’s story is that she’s surrounded by characters with unconcluded character arcs. What’s even worse is that one of those characters was Jaune.

Okay, let me get this straight. I DO NOT HATE JAUNE. I HATE HOW HE’S WRITTEN AND THAT HE’S TAKING OTHER CHARACTERS’ MOMENTS. Jaune is the result of too much focus in writing. From how I see it, Miles and Kerry are trying to get his development out of the way in order to move on to other characters.

The problem is, it’s not working nor is it apparent to the viewers. Hell, me thinking that was just me rationalizing their actions as writers. Even then, it’s poor. They know how much hate Jaune gets from the fandom, yet they insist on doing things that would get the fandom angry. They continually ignore the criticisms he gets and make him do things that other characters could’ve easily done themselves.

Look at the last episode. Why the fuck was Jaune the one to save Qrow? They were at each other’s necks just a few episodes ago and now they’re sharing a moment? You can argue that it’s because he knows how much Qrow means to Ruby but in that case, why didn’t Ruby save him? She clearly could considering her goddamn semblance is super speed.

Was it so they could show off Ren’s semblance one more time to reconfirm to both the characters and the audience what it is? In that case, there’s an easy solution: have Ruby save Qrow, but the Nucklavee sees this and decides to give chase. Ruby, in a panic, accidentally trips. That’s when the other three help her get away. Perfect time to show off Ren’s semblance as well as Jaune’s new upgrade. Ruby and Qrow have a character moment they desperately need in order to make Ruby relevant as a character again and then you’re done.

Also, can we talk about that Nuckalvee fight? Why the fuck did Ruby forget how to use her semblance and scythe? The entire volume 4 trailer was her abusing her semblance and it even looked like it evolved to a different level. Why didn’t she used her super speed at all in the final battle? The animation crew seriously need to watch the older episodes to get a better feel to how Ruby actually fights. Ruby gets so fucked over by the writing that she hasn’t been developed since the first fucking volume. Now they didn’t even try to give her screen time.

But enough about Ruby, let’s go to Weiss. Weiss, I think, had one of the more compelling stories of the bunch along with Yang. We knew she came from an abusive household, but we didn’t know how truly fucked up it was so it was interesting to see what her situation was really like. And it just felt... strange. While her dad was pretty much how people made him out to be, but her having a brother was a little jarring. It makes sense in the full sense of things, but I think he should’ve been at least name dropped in volume 3 like Winter was in volume 2. Overall, her story felt a bit rushed since I wanted to see more about her relationship with her mom and brother, but I can’t say I really have much to say about her story.

Same thing with Yang. Like, I have no idea what it’s like to have PTSD and clinical depression, but the common consensus is that they completely rushed Yang’s recovery and that’s something I see. Yang seemed reluctant to put her new arm on, but I would’ve liked more scenes of her trying to get used to it or still hesitating to going back into the battlefield. The bit about her mom was nice and I do like how Burnie and Barb’s relationship sorta translated into Tai and Yang’s relationship.

Now, Blake’s story. Blake’s story was a fucking mess. Her story introduced five new characters: ones that were totally unnecessary (Fennac and what’s his face), ones we didn’t know exist (Ghira and Kali), and one that shares a past with Blake but was not explained or expanded upon (Ilia). Okay, as much as I like Blake, she, like Jaune, gets far more attention than the other characters. The only reason why I’d pardon it is because she’s a titular character. But that doesn’t justify why she’s suddenly more important than the others.

When will it ever get to their heads that introducing even more characters is not an solution to every problem? I don’t know about you, but I love when there’s some build up to character introductions. We all assumed Blake was an orphan but now she’s the daughter to the chief of Menagerie and the ex-leader of the White Fang? Kinda important info there, guys.

TL;DR Too much exposition and overly focused character moments is what ruined this volume for me. I don’t care about the lore if it digs into possible character moments. I don’t care about character moments if it’s about characters I already know too much about. Overall, the only high points of the volume were the Renora moments. Ren and Nora also suffered from lack of reaction to Pyrrha’s death, but at least they had the moments they deserved after being put onto the sidelines for as long as they have. 

[youllneverknowmysecretidentity]

Chapter seven: healing

(TW: blood, self abuse, talks of suicide, negative self thinking) Mullen’s p. o. v. She was avoiding contact, I knew what this was about, I had all day to think about it. She was avoiding something, she still had a wall up. So did I, but mine was for a good reason. Hers was silly, there’s nothing she could throw at me that I couldn’t handle. I huffed again, I couldn’t handle how Jonavah was looking at her, he whispered in her ear and put his hand around her shoulder. It was infuriating, I don’t understand why she froze so quickly, I mean if I was human then maybe I’d be scared too. I didn’t scare her right? She kept her eyes glued to the road, we were almost at the house, when she pulled in she didn’t even register that I had smoked away so that she could have a bit of peace. I was still angry, I needed to make it clear that what she did was dangerous. I just wasn’t sure how. My P. O. V. I was pissed, I couldn’t handle anything, in all the time I’ve know Mullen the only thing separating me from true happiness was the stupid fucking fact that he was always breathing down my spine. I wanted death now, I didn’t realize it but I’ve wanted it for so long, maybe Jonavah was my option. I want to know what Mullen is hiding from me, maybe I’m actually the pawn for Mullen. Maybe I’m already getting played? Maybe, maybe was a dangerous word I always had in my vocabulary, why couldn’t my brain shut the fuck up? I sat on my bed, the sky had already started the shift with the passing time. I wish I had time in my pocket, I’d always use it when I wanted peace. I felt the hot tears roll down my cheeks, I needed some release. I needed away from Mullen. I couldn’t stay with him, I just knew I was getting played. I just knew I was nothing. I couldn’t break my own promise. Not this one, not anymore. I stood from my bed and made my way to my desk, pulling out a pen and paper I wrote a letter that even broke my own heart. I tried to ignore the ripping feeling I had in my soul, that painful awful torment when a lover is taken away. I wanted to just be free. To have anyone inside. I didn’t want another soul in there. One was enough, why couldn’t I find the strength to sign it and throw it out the window, why couldn’t I. The air felt so cold, Halloween was nearing. I didn’t sign it, I threw it out the window, a second later I heard the sound of paper being crumpled up and tore. I felt my soul hurt even more. I felt weak. Useless, I know what I have to do. Mullen’s P. O. V. What the hell is she thinking?!?! I know she loves me, I know she won’t admit it, it’s okay if she won’t admit it but to simply say she never wants to see me again? It’s not that simple, I can’t just leave her alone it would physically kill me, and perhaps kill her too. A broken heart is a common death. I flew into the woods, i didn’t care what trees I tore down or who heard me, I’m sure some hick is out there thinking I’m the kill of a lifetime. The trees look like they’re burning, it only fuels my rage, i deafen the forest with my roars. Halloween is coming. I can’t handle the noise, i cant do this without her, shes my purpose now, how the hell can I show her I’m not going to hurt her. A week later Hannah’s P. O. V. A whole week passed without seeing Mullen, I haven’t eaten in two days, slept in four. I feel so insignificant, so jaded. I feel more played now than ever, I want to know why I can’t die. C talked to me yesterday, he kept on trying to coax out of me why I looked dead, I felt dead. Lauren and Grady are concerned as ever, I haven’t even bothered to pick up the book about the gaelic gods. I never want to see his face again. Ava constantly asks me about it, i feel bad for wasting her time. I cried myself silly in bed last night again. It’s finally Friday, I want the world to end. I stared at my car as the parking lot traffic passed, I told my mom today I would walk the library trail. Maybe I’ll be okay, maybe. You know, after a while the word maybe becomes better and better, it’s not yes but it’s not no, it’s the happy in-between. Something life never really gets to have, you can only have a shitty extreme. I like the word maybe. It means maybe, I’ll lean to the good extreme one day. The trail was empty, the sky cloudy and the world dark. The skin whipped my face like an angry captor, I almost wished it would hit harder, the tears kept on falling and taking the hits for me. I want the tears to stop. They’re so dramatic, I’m sick of them. I’m don’t even notice a body following me until I hear the footfalls, I could smell it before I saw it. It was Cs cologne, or at least attempt at cologne. I always got sick when I smelled it. He was obviously trying to catch up to me, I sped up my steps. “Hannah wait!” I ignored it, kept my face to the pavement. Until I slammed into a dark chest in front of me, I felt all the wind knock out of me. Jonavah stared me down, he smiled a wicked smile. “Aw dove~ are you crying,” only Mullen called me dove. “Someone is trying to catch you, let’s take care of him shall we?” He smiled again and chuckled, I turned to C, he stopped mid run and stared with confused eyes, I tried to signal for him to run. As much as I hated him, he didn’t deserve this fate. No one did, except me. He stared like an idiot obviously, jonavah made a few steps to him, smoke billowing out from where he stepped. “Now you skinny mortal, I’d say you crossed the line chasing my kill like this. And now you’ve seen me. Shame, you would’ve made an amazing slave.” I choked on my air, I tried to scream, Mullen wasn’t here, I couldn’t save both of us. I knew the only thing I could do. I ran to jonavah, ignoring Cs protest and pushed jonavah as hard as I could, I had a slight element of surprise. He went down fast but not hard, I turned and took off running as fast as I could carry myself, I kept running until a solid hit to my back sent me down. I landed with a hard thud. My head hit the pavement, warm blood gushed down my hair, I turned over to my side. My eyesight got fuzzy, I could hear a far off voice of the Welsh god, he laughed. His laugh bubbling in my brain like toxic ooze. I tried to tune out his voice, the pavement cold on my cheek, it felt soothing, a warm feeling like gushing with life, and a cold cheek chilling with each second I lose blood. I shed a final tear. Waiting for a cease, but nothing came, instead a crack of thunder and then a flash of gold, standing before me was Mullen, he had tears in his eyes, I couldn’t make out his features well but from what I could see, he just wanted to protect me. I felt the black ink of melancholy lift off me. I cried more tears. Soon my shoulders were being shook, it was C, he was shaking me and trying to wake me up. I slowly rose, he gripped my shoulders in his hands and screamed for me to run, I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the nearest forest opening. He stopped me, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, THEYRE FUCKING MONSTERS, ALL OF THEM, WHY ARE THEY TRYING TO KILL YOU, HOLY SHIT.” I slapped him, I didn’t know why. But it worked, he shut up just in time for me to slur to him, “the golden one, the king, he protects me.” Then like a flash of lightning, images flooded my brain, images of Mullen in a golden coat, crown on his head, he screamed a war cry, jonavah behind him, a dark old man driving a spear through a man wearing white. Me. In a green gown sitting on a throne, I dropped to my knees. Blood gushing out my nose. I started to cry, i heaved up non existent food. The roars grew silent and a familiar smell of jasmine and pennies filled the air. C gasped and screamed, “stay the fuck away from us!” I could hear him yell at the boy to shut up. Strong hands were on me, I flinched then cried. I didn’t want to be separated from him again, I stayed in his arms. C stared at us for a second, “so he’s a good guy?” Mullen nodded, his deep voice vibrating my body, “my sole purpose is to protect Hannah. To love her, to care for her.” I could see the debate in Cs face, “we need to take her to a doctor.” Mullen shook his head, “she doesn’t have a concussion, I need to get her home, she does need to be cleaned up though.” He picked me up easily and placed me in my car. He turned to C, “go home, never speak of this or I WILL consider you a threat.” He nodded and scurried off to his car. Mullen began driving home, “your mother is currently at the store so you don’t have to worry about her seeing the blood, I do want you to take a hot shower and sleep. You hurt yourself.” I nodded, upon arrival at the home I stared at the bathroom in fear, I was so scared to see my body, he guided me to the bathroom and helped me undress, he didn’t dare touch me. Leaving me to clean, I scrubbed the red water away and stared as it drained, I was mortified by what I saw. I wanted to know. When I got out of the shower, I saw a note saying ‘I must find jonavah, I will return.’ I waited till midnight. He came in my room, his anger obvious, I only added fuel to the fire by the fact I was awake. He stared in irritation. I stared back in defiance, “I have to know, why were you wearing a crown, why did I have a vision of you wearing a crown.” He stared then sighed, “you didn’t read the book did you.” I shook my head, he smiled then handed me the borrowed book from Ava, page already dog eared for me, there, in bold lettering. I saw the truth, MULLEN: KING OF THE PROTECTORS RIGHTFUL RULER OF THE LIGHT. I stared at the book then dropped it, I cried again, he held me. I sobbed for 20 minutes babbling about nothing, i babbled about my week and how I couldn’t sleep I babbled about how I was so scared of being with him and how scared I was of not knowing anything. He only held me, tighter with each sob. At the end of my word vomit, I realized my walls had been broken, I felt like I had holes all over me, they gushed and oozed more than my head wound. My heart pounded and fluttered at the same time, my stomach trembled and rose into my throat. My hands shook like earthquakes and sweated bullets. I stared at him, and froze, everything stopped, the wind, the trees, the birds, the bees, the shaking in my knees and my whole body. I even stopped breathing, in that moment I felt peace, I felt cared for, I felt truly safe. No doubt no sadness no anger. I exhaled, “I love you Mullen.”

[automatismoateo]

My Christian father mentally abuses my mother to the point of suicidal thoughts via /r/atheism

Submitted December 09, 2018 at 07:22AM by LTetromino (Via reddit https://ift.tt/2RLFVx5) My Christian father mentally abuses my mother to the point of suicidal thoughts

I’m an American high schooler who is soon about to go to college. My dad and I had never had the best of relationships, Unfortunately, the biggest reason is a hard one to repair. The vast majority of our problems is from his undying devotion to Christianity.

My fathers devotion to Christianity is an extremely strong one. He was not raised Christian. He grew up in Mao-era China, and was extremely poor for his childhood. He is the only one of 9 siblings to go to college and come to America. What makes this bond to Christianity inhumanly strong is the circumstances surrounding his conversion.

At the time, my father was still in medical school in America. He thought life would be better there, and had to restart much of his medical training. Among younger students and with broken English, my father felt bullied and discriminated against, and fell into a depression. When a friend of his suggested he go to church, he did, and “found peace in his life from God.” It was a redemption arc of legendary proportions, which only sealed his devotion.

He took me to church on Sundays and Fridays ever since I was a baby, up until late middle school. I was “Christian”, but never really devoted myself to the religion. I specifically remember the first time I was told the story of Moses and Ramses II. I learned God was always good, kind, and perfect, over and over and over again. When he punished the Pharaoh for making a decision that he had forced he Pharaoh to make, that set off a ticking time bomb in my mind. Since that day, I had become more and more skeptical about God and Christianity. I learned about evolution, nature, and science in general, furthering my skepticism.

When I was 13, I finally sincerely asked myself for the first time, “does God really even exist?” For the first time I started asking myself that without a pre-existing answer in my mind, and I decided that God, or at the very least the Christian God, is absolutely fake. At first, I would make excuses to not go to church. Then later I refused to go altogether. My father and I started to get into furious arguments.

We would argue and insult each other, and it would always end with me leaving the house or locking myself in my room. These arguments were over many things, but mainly over him attempting to force me to go to church and punishing me is I didn’t.

I’m not going to pretend I’m some kind of psychologist, but I have a theory that ever since discovering and following Christianity, my father has developed a “holier than thou” sort of delusion. He would call me “unreachable,” and “close minded.” He would say I would understand only when I was older. It’s as if my father thinks he always has a higher power supporting him, and that he must always be right. Any criticisms of his ways is a direct attack on his God. He must be all powerful in the family.

What spawns from that is him desperately grasping at ways to control me. He would make up ridiculously nonsensical and unnecessary rules for the family. He infuriatingly called them “family rules,” as if anyone else in the family gave a fuck about them. They included: have a “family meeting” once a month (he would mostly go on about religious matters). No playing video games on weekdays, no matter what. No locking my door, ever. Stay in my room if I don’t participate in church get-togethers that he hosts. I follow most of these rules if he’s home to prevent further argument, since most of them barely affect me.

My dad recently insisted that I go to bed before 11PM on weekends. This may sound completely okay to some of you, but to me? To enforce something as trivial as a bedtime on someone who is almost an adult was insulting to me beyond belief.

I argued that there was no reason at all that there should be an enforced 11PM bedtime for someone who is almost a grown man. I got into a viscous argument with him last Friday, and it ended with him shouting how I wasn’t his son and how he wished he never had me. I sat down in the dining room doing nothing until 1AM to spite him. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea but I refused to let him have the satisfaction of me giving in to his demand. Little did I know, the consequences for all of my actions were far greater than I had known.

Today, I was playing a video game online with a few of my friends. My mother then starts pestering me to go to bed at 11. That was unusual, since she is usually completely fine or only slightly reluctant to let me stay up late.

Where my mom fits in is that she’s usually a bystander, and will sometimes support either my father or me, depending on the subject. She’s not religious, and I feel like that secretly angers my father beyond belief. My mother has no job, but supported the family working a job she hated for years (during me in elementary school) while my father finished his medical training.

Our family was relatively poor for a very long time. My mother worked a job barely making over minimum wage supporting a family of four while my father studied. I remember that she would try her damn hardest to save as much money as she could, such as buying used clothes. A lot of my clothes in elementary school were hand-me-downs from my friend in the grade above who lived next door. I learned from my mother to spend money very sparingly, and what I do now reflects that. I never buy anything online that I don’t need without it going on sale. I cheaped out on my computer parts, using only $900 instead of the $2000 budget I had to build it. I never spend more than $4 for lunch at school. I never buy clothes that cost more than $20.

My mother and I had a very calm debate (a welcome alternative over the livid shouting matches) over the bedtime rule. I asked her why she cared at all, and kept pushing the question until she started to just let all of her feelings pour out. She told me that my father had been arguing with her and insulting her for her not enforcing his rules on me. He would insult her for having no job even though she had been looking for two years, and he called her “useless” and “a waste of space.” She admitted that she refused to sleep anywhere but the living room couch so she didn’t have to share a room with my father. He said that since he made the money, she was obligated to do what he wanted. Every time I made him angry, he would secretly take it out on my mom. My mom told me she wanted to die.

Furthermore, my mother told me that my father recently announced to her that he planned to give $100,000 to the church. This was absolutely devastating to me. The two of us were the most careful with money in the family. My mother said she would use cold water to wash dishes. She wouldn’t turn on air conditioning at night for herself. All of her clothes she bought herself were extremely cheap, usually less than $5.

And for what?

For my father to give it all to the church. To strangers from a religion that nobody in the family cared for except for him. Money that could be spent on our college, put in retirement, or to buy a home. All that money I mention I tried to save earlier? To the church. All the pains my mother suffers to save the family money? To the church. Every dollar for the last and next few years we managed to penny-pinch? To the fucking church. We unknowingly lowered our quality of life for years for the church. By giving them the money, he gives them our sacrifices for each other.

I am absolutely disgusted by my father. Im disgusted by his hypocritical actions. I’m disgusted by his decision to give a massive amount our money to a bunch of suits for a religious organization. By his pettiness. By his refusal to change. But mostly, I’m disgusted by his actions against my mom, who has given me unconditional love and support no matter what, for my entire life. Who has worked a shitty lab job for years to support us, and has probably single handedly saved enough money to buy everything we own again. Who has taken all of his shit without ever taking it out on me.

She’s says she’s planning a divorce after my sister and I go to college.

I hate this, I don’t want things to be this way anymore. I hate what religion has done to my family. I’m scared.