#this is their response to someone who told them that Child neglect is a form of abuse when they questioned if it was really abusive

[tootysweetcheeks]

[flawlessflesh]

at arm's length

CW: Discussion of CSA and trafficking

I originally wrote this meta in response to a retrospring anon - These are my thoughts on the impact of child abuse on Thistle's ability to form relationships or feel attraction.

Keep in mind as you read that this is based on my personal interpretation of Thistle as a present-day teen who was trafficked for several years before being taken to the golden kingdom. This meta is canon-adjacent, not canon, and can be considered supplementary info for my fics.

-

Thistle has a heaping pile of trauma centered on interpersonal relationships and intimacy. This, along with his lifespan, inhibits him from forming equal relationships with others, and outside of his very small family group he doesn’t feel safe or capable of reaching out to people or letting people in.

He can feel attraction towards others but he shuts it down and doesn’t act on it because it feels like something bad will happen if he does. I consider him to be more comfortable around men than he is with women because he thinks he knows what he can expect from men (men were the main perpetrators of his abuse, but men like Freinag and Delgal are also the most important relationships in his life), but he has no idea what to expect from women. Best to avoid them. Most of his attraction is towards men as well and that complicates things due to the likelihood that these historical fantasy tall-man societies are homophobic - and Thistle isn’t treated like a man but he also isn’t a woman, so is it allowed? Is there something wrong with him for feeling this way? He doesn’t know. It isn't safe. So he keeps it all to himself.

In my timeline, Thistle doesn’t start puberty until a few years before the kingdom is turned into a dungeon. He never has the typical experience of crushes and childhood romance because he has no peers to engage in them with - his slower aging and his race isolate him. Everyone sees the silly little elf jester first and not the person. All he has is the royal family. Delgal goes through puberty, fools around, gets married, and through it all Thistle only understands that behavior like it’s something he’s read about in a book. He's disturbed by it too, having only had negative experiences with human sexuality, as little as he remembers of it. As an aside, I think when Thistle was brought to the castle he briefly had a crush on the king, but it was a child’s harmless emotion directed towards someone safe who he perceived as having saved him. If you’ve ever had a strong attachment towards a teacher or mentor growing up it was like that, and Freinag wasn’t aware of it and did not encourage it.

This is going deep into headcanon territory now. Thistle was trafficked by the troupe master of the traveling performers who had him before he was given to King Freinag. Thistle has suppressed the entire thing and can’t clearly recall the last twenty years of his life before Freinag. The information he has about that time is what people later told him (“your parents abandoned you”, “you were part of a traveling troupe”, “you already knew how to play the flute and follow instructions well”, etc). Freinag unintentionally replicates the emotional abuse that Thistle suffered — he calls Thistle his child but treats him more like a pet who has to perform for approval, and he is overly physically affectionate while neglecting the very real parental needs Thistle has as a young child. Thistle's hurt is like a barely scabbed over wound that keeps being picked at until it bleeds again.

Thistle grows up with an incorrect idea of how adults are allowed to treat him which leads to wariness towards everyone who is not the immediate royal family. They’re safe, they don’t do anything bad, but he can’t trust anyone else. Plus - he doesn’t like when strangers single him out for being an elf. He wants to fit in so badly and instead they invade his space and point out how he’s different and are always reaching for his ears. The few times he feels attraction he suppresses it on instinct without trying to understanding what it is or what prompted it. He doesn’t want to feel drawn to anyone he isn’t already close to. It’s a self-preservation mechanism and a reaction to the abuse he suffered, and after a while the curiosity is blocked off altogether.

In a post-canon future where he’s found a will to live and is healed to the point where he is interested in meeting new people, I still think he wouldn’t want to have an intimate relationship. It’s like a chasm, a frightening abyss of possibility for new experiences but also for getting hurt, and he has been hurt too many times already. Friendship would be daunting enough - I genuinely think he’d struggle with it - but anything more is equivalent with ruinous loss of control in his mind. Things can get better with time, conscious work, and understanding, but this mindset is where I see him staying for a long while. Thistle doesn’t do well with change or admitting truths to himself that he’s worked very, very hard to suppress.

[amysubmits]

Do you think a woman that has been in relationships previously that were abusive (physically, verbally, financially, emotionally or any one of the above) can ever truly submit? Or is that self-protection wall just too much of a barrier to this dynamic? The D/s dynamic is so appealing at first consideration, bc she would want to build that deep trust and have that open communication, find that place of safety that she never had.

But then her mind jumps even quicker to those thoughts of “I’m not enough”, “I’m not wanted” “I’m not desired”, the downward cascade is endless and so she hits the road for self-preservation.

In your opinion is that insurmountable?

So, disclaimer - I'm no mental health professional, just a traumatized ND person who has had psychology and therapy as an interest and hyperfixations several times in my life, and who has 5ish years of being in therapy as a client.

I wonder what you mean by 'truly submit', to be honest.

I think most people (not just women) have experienced at least a little abuse at some point in their life...and I think literally all people have experienced at least a little trauma. And abuse and other causes of trauma can definitely lead people to be unable to let go of control and/or to trust. So, I think abuse can make submission harder. I think abuse and trauma are really common causes for specific hard limits. For example, if someone had been verbally abused as a child and told they were stupid, that may have a really direct correlation with why they might make verbal degradation a hard limit. Or it can be a more vague relationship. Maybe they weren't outright called stupid or verbally abused, but they were emotionally neglected and part of that meant they were never told good things about themselves, but were criticized frequently. So they have low self esteem as a result of having their shortcomings highlighted but not having their strengths highlighted - this may cause them to be unable to tolerate being verbally degraded in a BDSM context. Different causes, but essentially the same trauma and outcome.

On the other hand...sometimes abuse or other forms of trauma makes people people-pleasers who are prone to fawning or freezing. They may have the same internal beliefs that you mentioned - I'm not good enough, I'm not wanted, etc - but rather than that leading them to avoid submission, it may make them submit in ways they shouldn't. For those people, submission may be harder because they will try to submit when they should be setting limits. These people may be misread as deeply submissive, but if they are agreeing to what their dom says out of a trauma response and not out of a true choice, then IMO, that is a big problem. So anyway...I think abuse can make D/s or BDSM hard. It can pose challenges that have to be navigated very delicately. I think it can (and should!) result in hard limits being set. Do I think it impedes 'true' submission? I don't like that 'true' word as I think it's often used to mean unhealthy things. But I don't think abuse keeps people from D/s or BDSM generally speaking. To me, submitting does not mean having as few limits as possible. Submitting means being as open and honest and vulnerable with your Dom as you can be given the amount of trust that you've built together - and submitting in the ways that you've agreed to and that are healthy for you to do so. What is healthy for one person may not be healthy for another. Being the best submissive possible is a totally personal, individual thing.

That may mean that you never submit in certain areas. If you have financial trauma, you may never submit to financial control, for example. That can be being the BEST submissive possible because it means you know your needs enough to advocate for not having your trauma triggered and that is being a great submissive, helping your dom protect you from harm. Where for someone else, learning to submit in that area might feel like their best submission. It's totally individualized.

[insanelyadd]

Some Collector Character Analysis

Annoyed by people who say that the Collector's personality changed "for no reason" or who say they preferred him from season 2. Like. There is a reason he changed. He was being abused, manipulated, lied to, for 350+ years. Before that it's implied they were, at the very least, neglected by their family. I don't like when people say they preferred how he acted in season two because he was "actually threatening" or "interesting" or whatever because as someone who knows enough about this kind of thing (and that's all you're getting from me), when I see the Collector in season 2, I see a child who is reacting to their environment.

He was never evil, he was in pain and trying to conform to what he thought was expected of him by the adult that was "taking care" of him, that he thought he was friends with.

People talk about fight or flight, when there's actually three other responses, freeze, friend/fawn, and flop. I propose that the Collector's response is fawn, which is described as

"The fawn response may show up as people-pleasing, even to your detriment. You may use compliance and helpfulness to avoid abuse; you disregard your happiness and well-being no matter how poorly someone treats you. This trauma response is often used to diffuse conflict and return to a feeling of safety."

As another layer to this, I was talking to my therapist about the Collector and I asked her how a child who is very neglected might act, since I HC the Archivists were neglectful to them and also they were trapped in solitary confinement for like 2000 years minimum. And she told me "Well they would have attachment issues" either in that they cannot attach to people at all or they are instantly very attached to people. And I think it's the second one, because we see multiple times that the Collector is immediately trusting of people when he meets them. They didn't like Luz but as soon as they think they have the opportunity to befriend her, they immediately become attached. And obviously there was him trying to befriend Belos even after everything he's done to EVERYONE including them.

So I think it's super believable that they immediately attached to Belos, believing everything he was told, and trying very hard to appease and appeal to him, adopting a persona of cruelty, even if they didn't like it. He was doing it to survive, he was doing it because he was desperate for some form of love or approval.

So when we see him in season 3, the reason he's behaving differently could be multiple things:

They are now attached to King and are trying to behave more like King to appease him because that's how he lived for multiple centuries

He never was genuinely evil or malicious, at least not to the extent that he played that part in season 2, though he potentially had some more callous tendencies due to the circumstances of his family and culture

He is no longer being actively abused and the less stressful environment has drastically improved his mood and mental health

I'm willing to bet it might even be all three at once. When you're in pain you are not your best self, pain makes you behave irrationally, angrily, cruelly, especially when the pain never seems to stop, and it's even worse when you're a child and might not even recognize what's happening to you. Belos being gone, and being around King, who is also a good kid with some occasional Mal-intent, "changed" their personality because they weren't conforming themself to play the stressful role of evil side-kick in an act of self-preservation.

So anyways the Collector is cool and I love them and want to adopt them and get him some therapy.

[aspd-culture]

But aspd-culture, what "causes" ASPD?

Well, that's hard to say as it is commonly a mix of nature and nurture, and we can't say for sure "this set of things will cause ASPD". I can, however, explain some serious risk factors that, if you relate to them and have this disorder, may have been a part of why you developed it.

TW for heavy topics, as you might have guessed.

Just a heads up that, if you have the disorder, this one is gonna be a rough read. A lot of things that you were told throughout your childhood should be "normal" and maybe that you even thought were helping you are gonna pop up here as things that heavily increase the chances of ASPD, and we're not just talking about abuse and neglect, though of course that is the first one I'm gonna get into because it's the most obvious and well-known risk factor. Do expect some other information you might not have been ready to hear, though.

So the first one, as I said, is maltreatment as a child. This can include many kinds of abuse, including verbal, emotional, physical, sexual, etc. There are some reasons to believe that sexual abuse in particular, especially long-term sexual abuse, significantly increases the chance of developing ASPD.

The next is neglect, which also comes with a significant risk of developing ASPD, especially if the neglect is related to both the emotional and physical needs of a child. If the child experiences neglect in regards to needs such as food, hygiene, shelter, medical care, etc, but does not experience emotional neglect, the risk of developing ASPD appears to be somewhat less than if the child experiences both.

Maltreatment and neglect before the age of 18 months is especially significant when it comes to risk of developing ASPD. Not greeting an infant, not properly showing emotion and "appropriate affect" to an infant, and in particular a lack of attachment from their mother (either due to her literally being absent or just emotionally absent and disconnected) during the first 18 months of life are less commonly thought of forms of neglect that seriously affect secure attachment and increase the risk of ASPD.

The third and last of the "expected" answers to this question is witnessing intimate partner violence during childhood, especially regularly or across multiple partners. This shows the child two things: one is a fear of the aggressor as well a need to tiptoe around someone who should be a secure caregiver to avoid danger, and the second is a disbelief that the victim of the violence is able to protect them from danger, either because they appear weak (children are supposed to believe until a surprising age that their parents are superhero levels of strong and unable to be intimidated or weakened) in the eyes of the child, or because the child does not want to bother them with their issues when they already have their own abuse to deal with. This is especially true in cases where the child successfully controls the violence where the adult cannot (think those kids who use themselves as human shields because the abuser doesn't dare touch the child for various reasons), as it makes them feel they are responsible for protecting both themself and their caregiver, which disrupts normal attachment.

Here's where we get to the less obvious, more specific stuff that can lead to ASPD. There are multiple studies showing that an excess of television (I know, but hear me out bc this isn't about violence on tv), specifically when it is being used as a stand-in parent, significantly increases risk of developing ASPD even when other factors are controlled. As someone with ASPD, I can 100% see how this is valid. I used television to try and understand what normal people were like, and in turn, I experience a weird type of affective "empathy" when shown emotions in the over-acted way that they do on sitcoms, even though I do not experience that empathy when shown normally expressed emotions either on tv or in real life.

It also makes sense to me because generally when TV becomes a stand-in parent, the child is watching other children be cared for in ways that they are not in real life. The child may then be led to believe (as I was) that caring about other people is something made up for TV, since that's the only time they see it. Once the brain develops the understanding of fantasy vs reality, if TV is the only time that a child sees secure attachment styles, loving and attentive caregivers, etc, the brain may falsely place that in the fantasy category. That can lead to the thought processes and attachment issues that are typical of pwASPD, including feeling as though only they can be trusted to look out for themselves, that irl relationships are supposed to be transactional vs emotional, etc. So if you, like I did, attempted to watch sitcoms and such like Full House, Boy Meets World, etc. as a way of understanding what a normal family is supposed to be like or to understand how people are supposed to interact with each other, it is very possible that that was a contributing factor to the development of your ASPD.

Another somewhat surprising one: show of hands on how many pwASPD grew up hearing "it's just a joke", "you have no sense of humor", and "lighten up, we're just teasing you" - either from other kids, caregivers, or both?

Teasing is believed to be another major factor in developing ASPD. Teasing can cause a child to feel insecure, unsafe, and attacked when coming from people the child does not have a secure attachment to, and can decrease chances of the child developing that secure attachment later. This is especially true if the teasing came from caregivers, and of course has a higher chance of affecting the child if they attempt to set boundaries around it and aren't respected in that. This leads to the child feeling attacked by the people they are supposed to go to for comfort, and the more people who tease the child, the more likely the child is to feel unsafe around people as a whole - leading to the mindset that all people are dangerous and that the only person the child can trust is themselves. This teasing also causes self-imposed isolation as a way of feeling secure, which reinforces again that people are inherently unsafe and the only person the child can trust is themself. So if you tried to communicate your distress, discomfort, etc. about being teased and were dismissed, especially by your caregivers, then that significantly increased the chance that you would go on to develop ASPD.

One that is currently debated as to if it is a factor or not is the presence of an overprotective mother, specifically if that over-protectiveness became a point of contention between you two as you became more independent. It's surprising because a major characteristic of children who develop ASPD is independence, and most hold the belief that only they will protect them, but the reasoning is sound imo. The reason for this one, from those who believe it is associated with ASPD, is that when a child goes through the normal process of asserting independence, if they are met with either fear tactics as a form of control or heavy anxiety from their maternal figure, the child learns to be insecure, anxious, and obsessive about protecting themselves because they are being taught that the world is not safe/that they are not capable enough to explore that world. This can lead to an overblown expectation of the danger in the real world and leads to anxiety and distress around outside people. This anxiety and nervousness about the world can lead to the child seeing everyone and everything else as a threat, a mindset that is commonly associated with ASPD. If that anxiety is later disproven (as it inevitably will be unless the child experiences significant trauma - itself a risk factor for ASPD), this causes a rift in the attachment to the caregivers in question, and can make the child distrust their judgement and ability to assess risk, which again affects how safe the child feels with them. This is especially true if the connection to their caregivers is weakened by inconsistency, abuse, neglect, or other factors.

Any inconsistent behavior from caregivers, in fact, is another risk factor for developing ASPD. Children need to be able rely on consistency and routine to feel secure and develop normally. If they are constantly uncertain of how safe they may be with one or both caregivers, they are more likely to learn the idea that the only person they can rely on is themself.

Note that all of this is based on the current scientific understanding of ASPD's development, which deals significantly in both stigmatized and entirely false beliefs about the disorder. However, I focused here on points that made sense to me as someone with it, and did my best to explain how these contribute to ASPD through that lens in addition to the potentially biased medical lens. Our understanding of psychology in general is always changing, but these are some risk factors that are commonly believed at the time of writing to increase the chances of developing ASPD.

Also worth noting is that all of these factors do not need to be present to have ASPD develop. These factors significantly increase the risk of developing ASPD, especially when combined with a genetic component, but I am in no way claiming that you have to have all or even any of these to have ASPD.

I hope this helped you understand this disorder and the people with it a bit better. If you know someone with ASPD, maybe this can help you process why they hold the beliefs they do, and if you have ASPD and feel comfortable, feel free to show or explain some of this to your friends if you think it may help them understand where you're coming from a bit more.

A lot of the stigma, I think, comes from the fact that people don't get what we went through that led our brain to believe our antisocial traits were the best way to protect ourselves. For some, a little more light shed on that subject may be all they need to be more compassionate about it. And if you went into this with a negative outlook on pwASPD, I understand. It's easy in the world we're in to end up with that thought process. I appreciate you reading this far and ask you to read just a bit further to the end.

Try if you can to imagine what it's like to be a kid who has been through more than most adults have in their entire life and gotten so little help that that little child believes no one in the world protects anybody else. Imagine what kind of a world we were picturing growing up in because at the time, that was all we had ever seen. It would be horrifying, right? Even worse than the already pretty sucky world we currently live in. Imagine being a child and thinking that every other kid is going through the same stuff you are at home and handling it so much better. And for some, imagine knowing that some don't or that they get help, but not knowing why your life is different. Would you want to live in that world? Would you be able to keep the innocent, childlike wonder? Would you not be angry and hurt and confused as to why you didn't deserve the help and the life other kids get? Many of us lived thinking that from painfully early ages.

Is it so far-fetched for us to think we needed to protect ourselves if everyone was like the sample size of people we had met? Is it so shocking, then, that our subconscious thought that the traits we have now would be the only way to keep us safe? Is it really that surprising that a child so rarely, if ever shown kindness and empathy, might grow up not knowing how to replicate that for other people?

Most of us looked down the barrel of a proverbial (for some of us, literal) g*n as a toddler to young child, so we put on a vest. How were we supposed to know that other children had never felt that unsafe? How were we supposed to know that someone was supposed to help us when they never did?

Just food for thought. Thanks for reading.

[faesystem]

I have a Tim Drake AU where he is a lot like the canonical character but more jaded. Some of the biggest differences are:

1. His relationship with his parents was worse than what I believe it was in the comics. His parents were increidibly neglectful and only home for events. The only things they taught him were how to behave in high society.

When he was little he went to a boarding school. When it was the holidays, it was a mixed bag as to whether or not they remembered and arranged a lift home for him and for someone to care for him. Sometimes he would have strict live-in nannies, sometimes he had to make a four hour long trek through Gotham by himself to even get home.

He really hated having adults around. Having adults around just meant that there were bunch of stupid rules he had to follow. When he was alone, he was able to relax without being worried about getting yelled at for things such as putting his coat on the floor under the hanger. He couldn't reach the hanger, it was not his fault!

But when there was no adults around, that meant food was not being bought. His first ventures out onto the streets of Gotham at night were to food vans. He really liked going to the food vans, because everyone was nice to him. It was one of the only experiences he had as a child with any form of positive relationships with others. But at the same time, he wasn't like the other people there, and he felt bad taking food when his parents had the money to feed him.

So he implimented a plan. If he could convince his parents to give him an allowance, he would never have to go hungry like that again. This was the first plan he ever made, and created a shift in his behaviour. Instead of just sort of idling through life, he began teaching himself how to be responsible. A lot of it was to prove to his parents he should get an allowance, but also it was important for him to do things like cook and clean.

This plan lead into another of ensuring he would never have a nanny again. He proved himself capable of staying by himself. At a calcuated risk of them realising they should have been hiring a nanny during every single holiday, he told them about him staying alone and how well he did. It was honestly very easy for him to convince them to let him stay on his own, and beginning the next holidays he never had another nanny. The only staff in the house was a cleaner who came by once every fortnight.

He also begun doing everything he could to get into his parents good graces. For years it was because he lived for their approval, but eventually he realised he would not get that. Instead, it turned into something that was just beneficial for him. The only punishment they ever really gave him was taking away his allowance. Since he didn't have a nanny, that meant he couldn't get food. Those experiences taught him how to be resourceful, and also how to manipulate those around him to avoid getting into trouble. He became incredible at picking up what people needed to hear to think what he wanted them to.

At some point in this he finished up a plan about getting out of boarding school. He got accepted into a prestigious private school that was a 30 minute drive away from his house.

2. He was friends with Jason before Jason ever even got adopted by Bruce.

When he would sneak out at night to take photos of Batman and Robin he would also give away his allowance to those who needed some money. Jason was pretty sure Tim was the child of a mob boss or something, since he had a lot of money and did not seem to fear being out in Gotham at night. Still, he couldn't help but worry for Tim, since he was so tiny and very clearly starved for attention.

Jason would sit and smoke while he listened to Tim ramble. It was the highlight of both of their days, as neither one had much opportunity for positive social interaction. Jason was homeless and Tim really struggled to make friends at school.

After Jason got adopted and became Robin, he lost track of Tim. It's not that he ever forgot him, there was just a lot going on. It wasn't until months later when they bumped into each other at an event that Jason remembered all of those concerns he had about Tim.

From what he could tell, Tim was... Doing fine. No amount of research indicated anything that weird. His parents were away a lot, but Tim's stories about a nanny matched records he found. And his parents weren't mob bosses either. But Jason still couldn't shake the worry something was off about Tim's situation.

Tim helped guide Jason through adjusting to high society. Jason was kind of freaked out by how fake and manipulative Tim could be, but it was easy to grasp his lessons. In this AU I feel as though Jason actually grew to like going to galas and other events. Tim had drilled into him that being a Wayne meant he was top dog. After Jason made it clear he knew that, suddenly people were very polite to him.

3. Tim was a lot more manipulative to Bruce after Jason died.

When it became clear Bruce needed an intervention, Tim went over to Wayne Manor with two folders. One of them was irrefutable evidence that Batman was well on the path to becoming the world's worst supervillain, and the other was carefully detailed plans about possible solutions.

Tim actually only really had one plan he thought would work. When he mentioned one of the plans involved getting another Robin, Bruce reacted very poorly to it. Bruce shut down from the conversation entirely. So Tim pushed and dug into the weak spots. He got Bruce angrier and angrier. He waited until Bruce had stood up to begin to pace in frustration before stalking right up to his face and telling him he was just like the Joker and the people who murdered his parents.

Bruce hit him. Tim had been expecting that to happen, hoping for it to happen. He made himself crumple in after the hit and made himself as small as he could. He looked up at Bruce with teary eyes and asked if he planned on killing him for being rude. It wouldn't be out of character given Bruce's behaviour after all.

Bruce didn't buy that Tim was afraid, but he knew he had lost. When Tim saw this, he seized the opportunity. He provided Bruce an ultimatum. He was either needing to change his ways or he would get another Robin. He said every single time he was overly violent or self destructive, he would spend a week patrolling as Robin.

After having dealt with this emotionally draining conversation and the guilt of striking a civilian child for hurting his feelings, Bruce agreed.

This set the premise for their relationship. It was a lot harsher in the beginning. Bruce was in a vulnerable position as a grieving father, and Tim exploited this often. He would intentionally cause Bruce to be angry with him to both redirect it away from others, and also make Bruce feel bad for angry outbursts. It was a horrible time for both of them, but it was very effective in getting Bruce to control his emotions.

Eventually things mellowed out. They had a partnership in much the same way any two superheroes would.

4. Bruce never adopts Tim.

A big time jump because it is late, but this is the next most important thing for me to talk about. Tim is absolutely a part of the batfamily, they are his found family, but he and Bruce would never be able to have a father-son relationship after everything.

Canonical Tim literally faked an uncle to avoid getting adopted by Bruce, didn't he? This Tim definitely did. He had a fake uncle for as long as it took for him to get emencipated. No one found out the uncle was fake until years later.

-

I have more thoughts probably. Later ones. It is late.

[faeriexrings]

[ thomas brodie-sangster, male, he/him ] whatever you think you know about BASIL THORNSHIELD, the 190 year old, BISEXUAL, LOCAL, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored LIGHT FAYE is often described as LOYAL + PLAYFUL , but don’t let them fool you; they can also be BROODING + DISTRUSTFUL, which often has them regarded as the CHILD OF THE FOREST. they are a/an OWNER at MECHANIC SHOP, but it’s also said they are a PRINCE within the LIGHT FAYE COURT. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.

History

Basil Thornshield was born as the youngest child of the Fae Queen, but he did not receive the same attention and love from his mother as his sisters did. Instead, his eldest sister, Eponine, took on the responsibility of raising him. She taught him about the world, how to fight and defend himself, and instilled in him a sense of loyalty and duty.

Growing up, Basil was always playful and mischievous, often causing trouble and getting into fights with other fae children. Basil always felt like he didn't quite fit in with the rest of his family. He was often more interested in tinkering with machines and gadgets than in traditional fae activities. Despite this, he had a close relationship with his sisters and often played pranks on them, showing his playful side.

As he got older, Basil became increasingly brooding and distrustful, likely as a result of his early experiences with his neglectful mother. He found it difficult to trust others, and this made it hard for him to form deep connections with people outside of his immediate family. However, once he did form a bond with someone, he was fiercely loyal to them.

Despite his mother's neglect, Basil still loved her and looked up to her as the Fae Queen. He believed that she had a grand plan for the Fae Kingdom and was determined to do his part in serving her. However, as he grew older, he began to see the flaws in her rule and how she put her own ambitions before the well-being of her people.

Eventually, Basil decided to move to Creation Peaks to be closer to Eponine, who had taken up residence in the area. He opened up a mechanic shop there, where he could indulge his passion for tinkering with machines. Although he was still somewhat distant with others, he found a sense of fulfillment in his work and was able to form a small circle of friends in the town. Throughout his life, Basil has struggled with his identity and his place in the world. He yearns for the love and acceptance of his mother, but also recognizes the flaws in her rule. 

As for his sexuality, Basil is openly bisexual, but he doesn't make a big deal out of it. He's never been one to conform to traditional gender roles, so it feels natural for him to be attracted to people of all genders. 

Overall, Basil's history and personality make him a complex and intriguing character, with a mix of playful and brooding tendencies that keep those around him on their toes. 

Personality

He’s often been told that he’s more akin to a brooding puppy in both personality and demeanor. Often affectionately to his disdain.

He’s been told that when it comes to certain aspects he can be quite naïve, he’s still not sure what about him is naïve. He dreads the thought of it.

Determined and resourceful.

Headcanons/Other Facts

He misses his sister a lot, which is why he decided to move to Creation Peaks in order to be closer to her.

He still gets into trouble, some constantly wondering if he’d thrive more among the dark faye and their chaotic ways.

[crybabyzine-subtext]

What I Could Have Been

I find myself longing for another life. I have been imagining what would have happened if I had had parents who understood me, a secular childhood, a childhood in which I was encouraged to pursue art instead of being told it was impractical. A life where I stopped caring earlier about what my family thought of me. A life where I never went to BYU-Idaho to please my parents. A life where I could have found others like me instead of consistently being told I was wrong, when I was just alone.

I suppose this is grief. My birthday is coming up. Anniversaries are always meaningful, whether you realize it or not. My body remembers. My body feels the years of loneliness.

I wish I didn't feel alone so often. It's embarrassing, but the people i feel I understand best have been my clients--sensitive souls who have similar energy to my own. Maybe you have to be mentally ill to treat the mentally ill. I definitely think it helps. I watch my dog at the dog park, always searching for other dogs like him. I feel like I do the same, but so rarely find someone who I can be authentic with. Truth is hard, and most people run from it.

My girlfriend loves me too much. It's uncomfortable for me. I can feel myself wanting to pull away, to run, to flee. I can't tell if I'm supposed to learn to accept it or to hold my boundaries. I'm so used to relying on myself. but I've gotten lax. I've let her take care of me and support me, and in turn, I've neglected myself and my responsibilities. I am the only one who can know what I need. But she is noisy and I can't get space to listen to myself in a 19-foot van. No matter what happens, I end up caretaking in some way, shape, or form. But I'm burnt out on a lifetime of caring for others. I cannot fake my emotions any more. I have little patience for people who expect me to. Moreover, I do not want to fake my emotions for anyone else's benefit any longer. I'm clocking out. This labor is not in my job description anymore.

I want to believe in the fairy tale of true love, but I have long since stopped believing in fantasies. Instead, I learn how fantasies are made--the ins and outs of storytelling, the technical work required to create believable illusions. I believe in reality. Maybe a little too much, and more than most. I enjoy smashing people's bubbles, waking people up to a world outside of their delusions. People resist that, though. I get it. I used to live in a bubble. I was a good little Mormon girl who believed a bunch of fairy tales that came with strict rules governing my behavior. I didn't break the rules, because I didn't want to. I believed. I set a good example for my younger siblings. I was too scared to be bad.

Until I couldn't anymore. I've learned firsthand that you can't suppress your truth forever. I had checked out of church, learned to disassociate from a young age, found ways of keeping myself entertained. I brought a journal to church with me--acceptable cover for taking notes on talks, but I was secretly journaling my own thoughts, doodling characters in the margins, creating my own little safe space to live on the page. My brain made a place for me, while my body went through the motions of my obligations. Sometimes my body made its own choices, like taking 30-minute bathroom breaks while I was supposed to be in my religious classes with the other devout young adults. Some days I would oversleep accidentally-on-purpose and then lie to my parents about what lessons I learned in church that week. They wouldn't have wanted to hear that I wasn't going, so I didn't tell them. The key to a good lie is to believe in it, and i believed the lie deeply. I was an imaginative, creative child who could easily imagine a world in which I went to, and enjoyed church. But I couldn't make it real.

I was almost always alone. What would it had been like if someone else had been brave enough to skip Sunday school with me all those years ago? Maybe I'd be better at connecting with others instead of writing my secret thoughts on the internet in the middle of the night. But this is the safest way I've ever found to be honest.

Maybe I could have been different if they would have just let me be myself. If they could have handled the reality of who I am, instead of trying to mold me into a perfect daughter of God. I could never be that girl. I would die before I became that woman.

I'm too messy, too loud, too small to have such heavy expectations placed on me. I fell short again and again and learned that being perfect was impossible.

[furiousgoldfish]

It’s not okay to tell a child who is telling you about their abusive parent, or abusive relative or sibling, to tell them in return ‘oh they care about you deep inside, they just don’t show it’.

That is not what the kid needs to hear. That kid put faith in you that you’re going to be on their side, understand they’re hurt, they’re scared, they feel hated, they’re starting to doubt the goodness of the person who hurt them, they need a safe space to express their pain, a confidant to hear and understand their part of the story, and they need help in order to not become a victim of this person’s abuse again.

And instead, you tell them, ‘Disregard your feelings, and conclude that this person, who hurt you and turned against you and used their power to abuse you, trust that this person actually deeply loves you, and what this situation needs is you having more understanding and tolerance because this, is actually love’. Nobody needs to hear this. No body, ever, needs to hear this.

Because this will, in fact, move the kid to consider that maybe there’s still love in this relationship, and yes maybe their abuser isn’t so bad, and maybe they should give the abuser another chance, and see deeper into their actions to find love they so desperately need in order to feel safe and accepted. And inevitably, they’ll fall victims to the abuse, again, and again, and again.

What you taught them, is to accept abuse as love. You told them it’s acceptable for the people in their life, to abuse them as a ‘misunderstood’ expression of love. You told them to treat abuse as one would treat love. You discouraged them from getting away from the harm, you failed to protect them, you failed to even validate their situation and their feelings, you failed to recognize that this is unacceptable, that they don’t deserve to be harmed, that it is not okay for someone who is supposed to love them, to abuse them. You taught them to accept anyone who hurts them, as a person who secretly cares. You gave them a push to tolerate this in their future friendship, relationship, marriage. Because how wouldn’t they forgive and understand it from their friend or spouse, if they did with a family member?

You put a situation of abuse in the context where the abuser doesn’t have to stop, but the vulnerable victim needs to put their feelings of hurt away, and ‘understand better’ that this is a form of love. That means the victim is the one who needs to take responsibility for the abuse, bear it, forgive it, and assume this is okay. You didn’t even explain to this child that they don’t deserve to be harmed. That hurting them is unacceptable. You went on as if suffering harm is normal and expected for this child’s life. You told them to endure it and failed to put them out of the harm’s way.

This is what enabling looks like. This is what siding with the abuser looks like. This is grooming, neglect, emotional abandonment, investment in abuse to continue. Nobody needs to hear that. Nobody needs to be reassured that the abuse is okay because their abusers love them.

What we need to hear is that this is unacceptable. That it was wrong to do this to you. Someone checking if we’re hurt, if we’re alright. Someone telling us they’re going to make sure we never suffer this abuse again. Taking our words seriously and making sure we’re protected, and we no longer need to worry about it happening again. We need a moment of grief for what we went thru, and to be asked for forgiveness because we weren’t protected, we were left to the mercy of a person who went on to hurt us. We need to know that people will be on our side, and find abuse as horrible and harmful as we do. We should hear that the person who loves us wouldn’t do this. That even the person who hates us doesn’t have the right to do it. Our feelings should matter. Our pain should be addressed.

That’s how you’d raise a person who understands their experiences matter and their feelings and safety have value in the society. To do it any differently is neglect and invitation of more abuse into a child’s life, as if that life is the least important one and reserved for taking damage. We do not exist to be sacrificed for families to stay together. The moment we’re put into harm’s way for the family’s sake, it’s no longer our family.

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[minshookie]

High Ransom.

Pairing |Mafia!BTS x innocent!reader

Genre | smut, angst, dark themed, mafia AU.

Summary | “They all knew your mothers word was good for nothing, she’d never pay it back. So they settled for a painful compromise.”

!warnings! Please read this before reading the fic| 18+ mature language, perverse actions, virginity loss, violent sex, anal sex, oral fem and male receiving, financial struggle, parent death, strict and neglecting mother, cum eating, darcyphilia, urolagnia,slight hate-fuck,reader insert is of age, extremely naive & innocent insert. I do not agree or support any actions depicted in this fictional work,rape. !!NON-CON!! !!non-con!!

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|

(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 4k.

A/N: 200 Follwers?! Hi, I love y’all sm 🤧. But on a serious note, this is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, I warned y’all. Also the longest one of written yet. I hope it isn’t too much :’) please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors.

Could they be running late? Shivering you sat in the windowsill towel wrapped around you keeping a sharp eye for their large dark SUV you loved so dearly. They were supposed to be here today, right? Getting up you stretch your legs going to look at your heavily decorated calendar,‘Friends Day!!’ In bright pink informed you, yes indeed they were to be here today.

A smile crept on your face, the confirmation made you feel giddy, the thought of seeing them again made you excited beyond belief. “Y/n I just know you’re dressed and not dripping all over the carpet!” Your mother teased from the living room. You swore she had cameras on you, unraveling yourself you chose one of the few outfits she had put together for you for guest appearances. Closing the curtains, making them look as casual as you could. You then sat on the bed waiting for her to come inspect, counting her footsteps along the creaking wood floors. She crept into your room, a stern expression on her face, you could tell she was stressed with nothing positive to say she mumbled “Stop pulling that face you look exactly like your father.”

You stood from the drab mattress choosing not to respond, “wet spot on the floor?! What’d I tell you to do?!” You hung your head, why must she always scold you. “You told me to get dressed Momma.” She sighed, “and you chose to come in here and prance around, flood the floors and dilly dally instead!” You studied the minuscule dark spots on the carpet, “they’ll dry momma.” You whispered under your breath hoping she wouldn’t decipher your response.

“Excuse me?” She griped your cheek in a pinch making you pull your head up to face her. She took a step back releasing your face, she sucked her teeth in disapproval. “Y/n you’ll have stay in here, that dress has gotten too short on you.” She knew her words hurt you, seeing the boys was the only thing you looked forward to every month. Their attention sometimes felt like your only reason to go forward, to avoid conflict with your mother, their presence being a type of reward. She turned to go and your vision began to blur, tears warmly cascade your plumped cheek.

Leaving you alone in the room, you resume your position in the windowsill moving the curtains just enough to peak. Still no sign of them, maybe they’d given up on the money, left you for good and you couldn’t blame them. If you could leave you would too. At that moment all hopes were given up, no longer keeping an eye out you began to daydream... at least Momma would be happier no longer having to worry about the escalating debt.

Sulking in loneliness you barely noticed a white SUV pulling into their usual cut....whose this? You opened the curtains repositioning,hands in the glass knees on the jagged wood of the windowsill bench. Couldn’t be, oh but it was! You bounced like a hyperactive child, Hoseok climbed from the drivers seat handsomely waving directly at you. They all followed offering you waves and air kisses making both your stomach and heart do flips. Tumbling from the bench you run to your door eccentric to get your fix of attention, affection, friendship.

“Get back y/n, what did I say?” She was waiting for you to break her command, she knew you’d forget. “To stay in my ro-” “so why don’t you do as told for once?” You fought the bitter tears as they knocked on the door, You shuffled back into your cage of room like a kicked puppy. Shutting the door you sat on the floor compressing your ear along the hard wood.

“Ah, welcome! Come in take a seat can I get you a drink or a meal? Anything really.” She spoke with a quiver, she had nothing to pay them back with absolute zilch. “Where’s y/n?” You smiled warmly, that voice had to be Taehyung. “She’s in bed sick.” “Sick, she looked alright from the window.” Hoseok you idiot. “I’m sorry... you saw her through the window?”

“Ah Ah, we didn’t come to talk about the build of y/n’s room you know what he want.” Jin was all serous business, the room was silent. “Next month for sure.” She lied right through her teeth and they all knew it. “You said that last month, and the month before, and the month before that.” You held your breath, you hated it when they bickered she honestly didn’t have the money you two only lived in this house because it was your father’s property, and everything you got just by luck and the skin of your teeth. She simply couldn’t afford to borrow anymore, as the boys began to add impossible interest.

“Listen, we’ve let you off the hook because of your circumstances,we had a soft spot, we held you at a respect for your strength...but now the well is drying up on patience and your debt is growing into a monstrosity.” Namjoon gave his spiel

“Your husband may be dead, but honey you’re next if this money doesn’t turn up...and the plans they have for y/n aren’t cute, if you had any decency you’d get your ass off that insurance money and pay up, don’t forget you pay for protection and soon you’re going to start getting what you pay for.” Yoongi was rude whenever he came to collect, almost never staying for the excuses once ‘no’ or ‘later’ was uttered he’d head for the door, but today he decided to do otherwise.

The room fell quiet, and though your mother was cold and not much of a mother at all to you it pained you to hear her sobs and sniffing. You could tell the words being thrown at her stung her deeply. Curious to what was going on behind your door you decided to have a peak, and apparently you weren’t too good at sneaking. Your door cracked ajar, as if he knew it would happen you made direct eye contact with Taehyung.

“Boys I-I don’t know what you want from me you know the money isn’t in my possession right n-” “y/n! Come out from hiding kitten!” Opening the door you stood reading the room, your mothers face glistening, you know better than to disobey on purpose. “It’s ok y/n c’mon we want to see you.” Joon’s smile is so captivating his voice so relaxing, but your mothers gaze killed its power. “C’mon tell her she can come out.” Jin orders and your mother complies by giving you a nod of permission, sniffing over her concealed cries. It ached your but you were too excited to comfort her as you quickly escaped your confines.

“Ohh look at your pretty dress, come sit.” Taehyung pulled you onto his lap, “isn’t it pretty boys?” He pulled the fringes that decorated the bottom, barely reaching you mid thigh. “Everything’s beautiful on our y/n.” Jimin agrees, greeting you with a flirtatious wink. Making you smile into Taehyung’s chest. “Bashful girl.” His large hand rubbed your back soothingly.

“This delicate little thing around all those men with no one to help her, tsk could you imagine.” He glided his hand along your exposed thigh “that tickles.” Whispering into him you feel you face warm up. He hums in response, “want me to stop?” “No, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed all of you!” You turned catching all of their gazes, “same to you princess.” Jin chuckled, giving you a cheek kiss.

“Please let her-r go ba-ck now.” Their smiles faded, and you’d hate to admit it but yours as well. You’d usually never go against your mother but she just didn’t want to see you happy, ever. And you hated it. “Momma...I don’t wanna go back right now, can I be with my friends?” Her eyes stretched in shock and anger, the boys found your rebellion comedic letting a chuckle escape. “Y/n get back to your room now you have no clue what you’re playing with!” Her tone made you wince, no longer feeling bold you were about to comply. Taehyung griped your waist holding you back on top of him.

“And who are you to order someone around when you can’t follow orders yourself?” She sat speechless, “Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin...next month.” Her pleads were pathetic, even you knew it wouldn’t work this time. “No. Pay up today, or we’ll be taking some sweet sweet collateral.”At the moment you didn’t fully understand or care what exactly Taehyung was threatening, the only thing your brain could focus on being his rough palm griping and rubbing your inner thigh. The sensation caused a tingle within you, you couldn’t help but fidget in his lap. “Still tickling baby?” You nodded, a bit too flustered to speak.

“I-I I have a hundred or two I can give.” His hand ceased its motions, making you whine for more of the foreign feeling. He lifted a brow in suspect “You take us as a joke don’t you?” She shook her head frantically. “You just offered us not even a fraction of a year's worth of debt...you think we’re idiots, you think we won’t do what we say we will do you?” The tension made you uncomfortable as everyone glared at your mother for her response, you gripped Taehyung’s dark suit. “Hmph, okay Y/n, show us your pretty room Love.”

A simple request made your mother stand in protests, “going to get the rest of the money?” Yoongi asked knowingly, your mother trembled. Why was she so afraid, they only asked to see your room...maybe she was still upset over the wet spots. “No? Well I suggest you sit the fuck down.” Everyone left from their seat, “go on show us Petal.” He smiled in encouragement. You pulled Taehyung by his hand showing all of them into your seemingly empty room, nothing to embellish the space besides your curtains, calendar and bed.

“Very cute, very cute, right boys?” They hummed nodding while looking at the four bland walls around them. “Jungkook won’t you close the door please.” He demands the youngest, and he does as told, letting your catch a two second glance if your sniveling mother before your fate was sealed. “Lock it will you?” “Uhm it doesn’t lock.” You confessed plopping down on your plush mattress kicking your feet over the edge. “Ahh, Jungkook...make it lock.” He went to work and you watched curiously until your attention was taken by Taehyung climbing in bed next to you. “Very comfy.” He complemented.

“Oh, oh please take your shoes off.” You recited rules that were practically engraved in your memory. He laughed complying, “you heard her, shoes off.” They did as told, making your laugh at their unison actions. You turned to him with a smile still on your face, “want to see my closet?” “No, but I do want you to lay down.” You gave him an inquisitive look, you weren’t sick and you definitely weren’t tired. “It’s ok, I just wanted to play a game, a friends game.”

Oh how excited you were! A game with your friends! You laid down beside him your head rested on your pillow. “Ready?” You nodded eagerly, the rest of them watched closely. “Ok beautiful, I’m going to ask you some things and all you have to do is tell me if you’ve done it before...” he looked around at his men, they looked back with anticipation. “We’ll all play.” You nodded, beyond excited for this new experience.

“We’ll start easy, have you ever kissed someone?” Your face grew a dopey grin, “don’t be shy.” You nodded quickly, “oh? Show me how.” Sitting up a bit, you took his jaw, turning him to the side pecking his warmed cheek quickly. He smiled widely, “innocent little thing, here let’s try this.” He took your jaw in his fingers, coming in and ravishing your lips. Unknowingly you lay motionless as he took over the kiss, maneuvering you as he pleased. Pulling your slack chin he parted your lips, his tongue intruded sharing his taste. A tingle ran through you, you’ve never seen something like this let alone feel it. Taehyung pulled back trailing slobber as he lifted, “m-more more kissing!” He shook his head, laughing at your greed. “No no, there’s more to the game.”

Smirking he snuck his hand under your quaint dress, “ever let Somebody like me see your cute little panties?” You shook your head no, “let us see?” You eagerly pulled your dress up, “pretty in pink...wet your panties hmm?” Sheepishly you shut your legs, “sorry.” He rubbed your exposed tummy, “no don’t be sorry kitten, that’s great, so good.” He dragged his fingers along your pelvic area. “Yoongi, your turn?” Taehyung continued to brush your skin.

Yoongi stood from his seat on the floor in speciation. He brought his finger between your legs using his other hand to push your legs apart. “Ever felt something like this?” He ran his fingers up and down your middle, pausing along the top giving you an oddly familiar feeling that you loved. “Mm.” You moved a bit closer to the pleasure. “Yoongi stop, answer him y/n.” Nodding you yearned for yoongi’s fingers. “Don’t lie...show us.”

Rolling over you pulled a pillow from behind you positioning it between your legs as you lay on your side. “Go on.” Yoongi nudged you and you began to rub yourself, pushing the pillow firmer into your core whimpering as the pressure increased, “it feels so good!” “Naughty naughty y/n.” You continued to pleasure yourself, “mm I know, please don’t tell anybody.” Taehyung took the pillow rubbing his finger along the wet spot you left behind. “You ever cum sweetheart?” You squeeze your legs together hoping for pleasureful friction. “What’s that?”

“You’ve been rubbing yourself raw with no release?” He had a glint of pitty in his tone. “ I-I guess.” Yoongi had began his adventurous handy work once again and you couldn’t get enough. He sat beside you, looking into your eyes intently. “How’s it feel?” “Good, please don’t stop!” Taehyung pulled his partners hand away, “don’t give her too much Hyung.”

You pout squirming, itching with pent up sexual frustrations. “You both play like she’s a doll, she’s a woman, you know what she wants even if she doesn’t.” Jin came from his spot leaned against the corner, he came close stalking over your figure, “take these off.” He pulled your panties roughly you could hear the weak fabric give way as he stripped you.

“Careful.” You felt self conscious as they eyed your nude private area, Jin took over where Yoongi was removed, the direct contact could make you scream in joy, “close your eyes.” Jin ordered, and who are you to say no to the pleasure. A strange warmth took over your core making your hips jump uncontrollably “mhhm please.” “Hold her down Hoseok.” Even that simple second of neglect made you upset. Your hips were restrained and Jin continued his work, “sorry.” You opened your eyes to meet Taehyung’s gaze and a smile was plastered on his features, looking down at Jin who  was kissing your privates, so strange but so amazing.

“Oh please!” You couldn’t control your moans, closing your eyes, “too good princess?” “Mm too good.” Jin removed his lips from you “you're a savage Kim.” Jungkook comments eyes glued to your core, as if he couldn’t resist the view. “Some hair shows she is healthy n’ pure , but you wouldn’t know anything about that, you like your women whorish” He comments lewdly wiping his plump lips. They stood in speculation as you pressed your thighs together desperately. “Oh please! Jin please more!” You earned a hand over your mouth. In attempts to shut your pathetic whines. “Please don’t hurt her!” Your mother beat the door with concern. “Does she sound hurt, don’t make us do something we don’t want to, now go away!” Taehyung growled, before leaving the bed, he undid his pants the respect in you made you look away. “Ever see this before?” He climbed over you, too cowardly to peak, you kept looking into his dark irises. “Your private?” He laughed in your face, “my cock?” He sat on your legs trapping you. He pulled your dress over your head, fully undressing you with ease.

Taken over my temptation, Jimin groped your clothed chest “don’t touch her.” His command was final, Taehyung had been taken by the monster of greed and lust. “Go on look y/n.” Your eyes slowly traveled down, he had himself in his clutches stroking squeezing at the tip collecting the strange ooze on the tips of his fingers. Reaching he glossed your lips with his juices, “never wear makeup, this is all you need pretty girl.” The smell was strong and musky, curious you took a taste, sweaty and sweet. “Greedy girl...you know where this belongs?” He tapped you with his erect cock.

“I don’t think so.” He nodded, reaching below himself without hesitation he penetrated you with his index. “Ouch Tae!” His eyes stretched in surprise, “that hurts? Oh what fun you’ll be.” His finger stretched you slightly as he explored, thrusting softly, curly at the knuckle. Pulling his finger back, and a thick stripe of cloudy grool connects the two of you. “Shit, would you look at that.” They came looking as you lay victim Yoongi had pulled himself from his pants stroking himself shamelessly. Hoseok unbuttoned his top, his fist buried in his pants, while Jimin palmed himself giving you a warm smile, while Jungkook sat timid away from the action and Jin’s face set stoney, seemingly uninterested. Namjoon being the false comfort he was, he stood close, his bulge in your face as he stroked your hair.

Out of breath, the best you could muster being, “I’m sorry if it’s gross.” Lustfully he used your nectar to stroke himself sensually making violent eye contact in the act.

“Stop apologizing, this is the best cunt I’ve ever seen.” Using his foreign vulgar vocabulary he moved back, using his hands to get a better view of your most personal area. “Oh honey, you’ve never had anything in this sweet pussy of yours huh?” You shook your head, “no never.” You whisper. “Let’s change that yeah? Will you be a big girl?” You nodded body full of utter curiosity, what was coming for you the last thing you could have fathomed.

“Mm, you’re the sweetest thing on Earth y/n” he gazed into you, looking your shivering body up and down as if you two were completely alone. He lowered himself distracting you with another one sided kiss, this time though you attempted to participate.

Little did you know his hidden agenda, he gripped his girthy member, massaging it along your slickening core in search of your small entrance. “Ah Ah Taehyungie!” You squealed against his lips. He’d barely pushed into you and the pain was prominent “shh shh wouldn’t want to make momma upset.” He paused and looked down at your slightly connecting bodies. “Hmm Let’s play another game.” He reached for the pillow you were pleasuring yourself on, he placed it over your face constricting your air in the process, muffling your pathetic whimpers and mewls.

In one violent action...“TEAHYUNG!” Your throat felt as if it would collapse,He forced himself into your constructing entrance ripping your walls you felt yourself struggle to become accustomed his size. His pace inhuman. You gasped for air,the pillow blocking any gasp you could get. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe Tae!” He kept his murderous stroke speed pulling the pillow from your face you heaved, sobbing, screaming begging for freedom. “Shut the fuck up!” It could’ve been the tears, or haze of pain, but this wasn’t your friend anymore.

Taehyung’s face as contorted in sick pleasure inconsiderate of your wellbeing he gripped your hips fucking into you aggression never seen before. “T-Tae please we’re friends don’t hurt me!” You cried out for his mercy. “Hold her fucking mouth Min.” He obliged, his hand slick from his own juices. He stood over you griping and jerking his member, keeping his eyes on yours. “Close your damn eyes, your crying is going to make me soft.” That only made you cry more, the treatment you were getting from Taehyung caused an ache you couldn’t help but sob from. “It i-it fucking hurts!” You let the filth spill from your mouth as you groaned with every thrust, your statement muffed by Yoongi’s palm.

“Close. Them. Now.” Stubbornly you kept staring, you won’t obey them, friends aren’t supposed to to hurt you, ever. “Ahh fuck.” Yoongi began to vandalize your face, removing his hand from your mouth pulling your hair to aim for your mouth. “Ah shit shit.” He continued to stroke grumbling heinous names under his breath. “My eyes please help me momma,it hurts momma!” He’d spurted right in your eye and he knew it. “I told you to close them idiotic bitch, you obey us you’ll be alright.” He took your discarded panties wiping your eye.

You didn’t listen to his angered grumblings...She didn’t respond, she left you to suffer, you were being naughty and she could hear and she left you to suffer. The pain in your eye became dull as you became numb to Taehyung’s assault. “She left you, that bitch left you in here to get fucked, and you’re going to take everything we give thanks to mommy dearest...no one is going to rescue you.” Yoongi growled I’m your ear, you turned from him. His seed still rests on your pained features.

Taehyung pushed his thumbs roughly into your abdomen making you cry out. “Your cunt is still so tight, mm fuck stop clenching like that- I’m gonna fucking- oh shit.” He sent his seed deep into you, the sensation was sickening you began to dry heave having nothing in you to throw up. “Throwing up sweetheart?” You ignored his false concern, he gripped your hair. “Think twice before you do, you’ll be cleaning it with that pretty mouth every drop.”

Your face drenched in tears, snot and slobber, and the seed of another, you lay in defeat. He pulled his member for your stinging and burning feeling settled between your legs. “Nice job, you’ve beat her bloody.” Jin grumbled coming near, your entrance oozed a mixture of his cum and blood from your lost innocents. His finger brushed against your puffy injured vulva, “please no no nooo!” You instinctively backed away from the contact.

“My turn princess.” Your eyes closed, you could tell it was Jimin planning his attack. “Please Jimin, you’re still my friend right?” You Sobbed to weakly to even look into his eyes, Jimin had to put an end to it or it wouldn’t end at all. “I treat all my girlfriends this way, hm don’t worry baby it won’t hurt-” you heard him wander closer, “just open up.” You refused, turning your head away from his voice, “Ah y/n don’t be that way.” He slightly scolded pulling you back his way by your jaw, “open your mouth y/n.” You opened your eyes, glaring at him, your right eye blurring and irritated. He rubbed his member along your pursed lips. “No?” He leaned over, his member in his over hand. “Open. The. Fuck! Up.” He slapped your pussy harshly with every word, already sore you cried out, begging for mercy.

He took the opportunity, plunging his cock down your throat, gagging you choked and cried. “Yah stupid Bitch watch your teeth!” He gripped the back of your head, another agonizing ordeal. Your throat was sore from the screaming and now your throat was being rubbed roughly by Jimin’s third leg. “I’m gonna c-cum, and you’re gonna swallow all of it and you’re gonna keep it down.”

You couldn’t protest, you got used just as before you closed your eyes and prayed for it to be over as quick as it started. Hoseok neared you like a predator, “careful she’s sore.” You opened your eyes quickly, he had his pants completely off, his member erect his shirt open his sculpted body on display. You sobbed around jimins member as he took his time fucking himself into you. “I’m not putting my prick I that mess.” He referred to your battered entrance, he placed his clock between your folds, rubbing himself their. Even the subtle pressure gave you discomfort, “hey! Watch those fucking teeth slut!” Jimin beat the back of your head, picking up his pace.

“She sounds so fucking nasty.” Namjoon pulled himself out of his trousers “choking and gagging, fucking whore I wouldn’t fuck you even if your mom offered all the money she owed.” Namjoon insulted, pulling closer, “what an asshole.” Jimin grunted in retaliation. “This is all you’ll get from me.” Namjoon leaned over you, assaulting you relieving himself on your quaking body. “You sick bastard!” They found Namjoon’s action sickly humorous. He moved to your face, you tried to stop breathing in fear of inhaling it. Warmly it dribbled over you. “I bet you fucking enjoyed it.”

Jimin pushed your damp head down on him as he exploded in your mouth, that scene being all he needed to find his high. His seed was salty and less sweet; he tasted repulsive. You gagged as he removed himself, you leaned over the bed in utter pain heaving. “AHT HEY!” Taehyung cupped your mouth, “swallow be a good girl.” He rolled you back, you tried but your body refused, you gagged against his musty palm. Jimin pinched your nose “take it, take it, take it!” Air became scarce, you gulped ingesting his warm seed, the taste blanketed your throat.

They let you breathe, Hoseok found his release on your tummy, scooping it with his agile fingers he force fed you. “Please...n-no...more.” “Shut up, your breath reeks.” Your stomach flipped, you were going to be sick soon. “Roll her over.” Jin instructed, and of course they followed you let them do as they please, not like you could stop them. “Your pussy is beautiful, but I love a nice ass.” He unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall. Spitting vulgarly, stroking himself. “Bite the pillow.” He pulled you up by your waist. Using his thumb he rimmed you.

Getting positioned he spit on your hole. The room was quiet. “Bite it hard.” He pushed himself mercilessly barely breaking through, “tight little bitch.” Your screeching earsplitting You’d become unconscious soon the pain was excruciating, you knew you were bleeding. “Please! I’ll do anything!Please not this, no more of this!” Finally he bottomed you out, “this is what love feels like, hmph remember that.” Jin growled fucking into you barely able to keep a pace.

Your vision blurred, slurring was your only form of speaking back, covered in piss and cum, tears and snot. Drooling all over yourself like an imbecile, bleeding. They’ve used you out, good for nothing you fell into the void of unconsciousness, sweet relief.

A dull jabbing welcomed you back into the real world, no way was this some sort of  twisted dream the disgusting smell registered back into your senses. The smell was you. “Fucking hell Jungkook finish already.” You’d been sick all over the mattress in your sleep, your mouth stale and stiff.

“I’m so sorry y/n I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” Blinking you looked over your shoulder, tears streamed his rounded face. “Ugh so sorry.” He gagged looking at your abused figure covered in bodily grime. “P-please turn around so it can be over.” Pitying you he held his head down shamefully thrusting to unwanted orgasm. He too filled you warmly pulling out quickly, scurrying to the corner losing his breakfast. “H-hy-'' he retched again. “Let’s go please, let’s leave.” He begged holding his stomach, Jungkook is still your friend, right? You could see he didn’t want to hurt you...

They put their clothes back on lazily.

“Be a peach and tell your mother we’ll be back next month on the dot, hopefully you won’t have to cover her tab two visits in a row huh sweetheart?”

“I hate you, all of you.”

“Ah, but we love you, and we always will.”

(Not my photo)

(Please interact like•reblog•reply it helps sm!)

@minshookie

[ashesandhackles]

The Hogwarts Express scene in Prince's Tale: A Sirius and Snape analysis

I really, really enjoy Sirius and Snape as characters and their respective narrative functions in story. But what gets me most about them is how much Rowling hints about their backgrounds and so much of it makes sense with regard to who they are as adults. So I am going to be breaking down a very small scene from Prince Tale and getting into long winded hypothesis about their respective childhoods.

So, let's start with Snape. The scene begins with Snape rushing to find Lily, already in his Hogwarts clothes. Harry notes he must have been eager to get out of his clothes - ones that look like he borrowed from his mother, as Petunia spitefully pointed out. This has always been a very interesting detail to me - first off, it indicates how poor Snape's family is. Second, this indicates his tiny rebellion from his father - he refuses to wear clothes of the abusive man, and prefers his mother's. I admit, I am partial to the reading that Snape refuses to associate with his father in tiny ways, rather than Tobias refusing to hand his son clothes.

(I have seen readings which say that it is also a sign of neglect - perhaps his parents bought clothes that simply don't fit him, but I am more inclined to think it's a hand me down, simply because Harry identifies so strongly with it. Because Harry knows what it is like to wear a hand me down that don't quite fit, that are too big for you, or the ones that make you look ridiculous.)

Lily and Petunia's relationship is fraught with Petunia's jealousy. And young Lily is upset over it when Snape meets her. "I am not talking to you. Tuney hates me" she tells him. "Because we saw the letter from Dumbledore". Young Lily shows signs of being extremely emotionally reactive and this scene is one of them. It's easier for her to deal with Petunia's rejection of her by telling Snape she doesn't want to talk to him. It's a childish displacement of her hurt over her sister's rejection. (I am genuinely baffled by interpretations that Lily and Hermione are similar. Hermione is very cognitive person, Lily, as we have been shown repeatedly in memories, is not).

Snape, however, with his bad history with Petunia and his inability/ poor social skills to understand why this matters to her, goes: "So what?"

Lily, who throws him a look of deep dislike, says "So she's my sister". This seed is important because this is what develops into "he doesn't get me" feeling she later displays in her teenage scenes with him. Interestingly, most of Lily's personal relationships have deeply interwined love and dislike - Petunia (whose rejection bothers her but she cheerfully informs Sirius that Harry nearly broke a vase her sister sent - which means there is resentment on her end too), James - who she was attracted to even before 7th year but also disliked at one point, and Snape - again, a contentious friendship filled with love and distance.

"She's only a -" we dont get to hear what Snape intended to say. And given his own acrimony with Petunia, it could be anything. However, I read it as "She's only a Muggle" because it ties into his feelings about his father. Snape, who is proud of being half a Prince, emphasizing his magical lineage from his mother's side, his refuge in a violent, neglectful home. (Barty Crouch Jr and Snape with their disappointing fathers - I imagine Voldemort is supremely attractive leader to people with broken homes like this)

Snape, by all accounts, shows a disorganised attachment style. His caregiver, his mother - and perhaps the only parent he seems to have regard for, is too preoccupied by her own abuse to be there for her son - we see this in glimpses Harry sees in OOTP: " woman cowering" where a man shouts at her, and a young, neglected Snape cries in the corner. Children born in homes like this have trouble regulating their emotions, simultaneously displaying tendencies to aggressively lash out or show disassociative symptoms. Both of which Snape displays. Statistically, this is also seen more in low income households where economic instability and resulting domestic instability creates an unsafe environment for the kids to safely form ideas of their identity, or express emotions in healthy ways, modelling instead out of behaviour seen at home.

Then, Snape reminds her that they are going to Hogwarts. He is already in his Hogwarts clothes - now, Snape gets to be the impressive figure. The one who told her about magic, who theorised about how Muggles get letters from magical people, the one who told her about Dementors and Azkaban. He has already left behind the Spinner's End version of him, he wants to bigger than that, and is keen to be in place of magical learning and to join Slytherin. Essentially, he shows signs of unstable identity, insecurity - all prime for grooming into a cult.

And here comes along James Potter, who looks around at the mention of Slytherin. James's comment uses Snape's line and directs it to Sirius instead and it becomes a conversation between them, as a way to bond more with a fellow "rowdy boy" Sirius. Effectively ignoring the other two.

Sirius as we see here, "does not smile" when James talks about Slytherin. He essentially says something that can be construed as a way to nip that conversation in bud: "My whole family has been in. Slytherin". This suggests to me that there is some loyalty to his family there and his disillusionment with them isn't entirely fixed yet. After all, Sirius's intense loyalty to his friends, more specifically James, did not come out of thin air. It is reasonable to suggest that he felt some loyalty to his family at some point and the intensity with which he regards his friends is a reaction to burned off and being a "displaced person without a family" as Rowling put it.

Interestingly, while his reaction to his mother and Bellatrix are obviously sore spots, his response to Regulus is comparatively quite soft. ("Stupid, idiot" - something he calls James later on in the same book, OOTP). I imagine Sirius has quite complicated feelings about his brother and he is capable of nuance (when the person isn't Snape, where his dislike seems to be borne of an intense projection): "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters". As someone who is grown up among them, Sirius would understand that.

His framing of Regulus's need to please his parents also further highlights what exactly is the source of disillusionment. He calls Regulus "soft enough to believe them" - which means he is crediting his own intelligence to see through his parents bigoted world view. Clearly, bigotry is not something the Blacks explained in a way that Sirius, eldest of their male line and their heir, bought it. It also probably didn't help the Blacks case that Grimmauld Place is in a Muggle neighborhood and that their eldest son is a bit of a wild boy with interest in pushing boundaries. His intellectual disconnect leads to the righteous rage he later feels but it began there. (Boy, it must suck to discover that everything you have been taught to value in the world and in yourself as the heir is essentially rubbish). Since his differences with his family began with seeds of intellectual disconnect rather than on intense empathy with downtrodden, it makes him, as a pureblooded privileged boy, unable to truly understand Lupin's fears regarding his lycanthropy. Hence, the Werewolf prank (I am not getting to the Snape bit, just the Lupin bit). To James' credit, he does understand what that means for Lupin and saves all three of them from different set of consequences.

Anyway, back to the scene. James, who has made an ass of himself in front of his new friend, who he was getting along with fine until now, then goes "Blimey, I thought you seemed alright". (Btw, I find James wildly large ego kind of hilarious here, especially in light of Snape's comment about him to Sirius in OOTP: "You will know he is so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him"). Sirius, who I believe has been raised like "royalty" as Blacks would, has good enough social skills to defuse a situation. He grins and says: "Maybe I will break the tradition".

This line is an indication of Sirius's desire for independence, an identity seperate from his family. The use of the word "tradition" is interesting. It sounds like Sirius is expected to behave in a certain way, the heir of Black family whose parents thought being a Black "made you practically royal". Adult Sirius is contemptuous of this, or their "valuable contribution to Ministry" which means they just gave gold - it tells me that any and all conditions put on him by his family were to fulfill tradition that is either worthless or holds no meaning in his eyes. The root of the emotional abuse Sirius suffers from his family is this - realising his parents love for him is conditional on him being a certain way. (In fact, you can read Regulus desire to emphasise his connection to the family as a reaction to what he sees with Sirius - Sirius does not behave, Mum and Dad don't love him). As a child with unconscious knowledge of lack of love, Sirius then acts out, they react, rinse and repeat "until he has had enough". Sirius chafes against boundaries well into adulthood and doesn't react well to people enforcing it on him, even if it is out of love for him. Cue the fire scene with Harry where he behaves as if Harry is rejecting him instead of protecting him.

Sirius asks James about where he wants to go, and Snape, who is incensed about James being insulting about a House he put stock in, which he made part of new identity (so that he is no longer that Snape boy from Spinner's End) and was in general trying to be impressive about in front of Lily, "makes a disparaging noise" once James talks of Gryffindor. Snape's response to James' : "Got a problem with that?" is interesting. He says: "If you'd rather be brawny, rather than brainy-"

This is an important value for Snape. He knows he is clever and values it. He spends his spare time inventing hexes, making great shortcuts to Potions. He has genuine thirst for learning and he hones it. In SWM, we see that he has written far more longer answers than anyone else, he is poring over his paper after exams. He even mocks Hermione's lack of inventive answers: "Answer copied word to word from the textbook, but correct in essentials". He values originality. It may be me stretching this, but I am partial to the reading: this is his way of rejecting his father once again, who is implied to be a violent man. (in other words, someone who is hypermasculine - "brawny". In fact, Snape's rejection of hypermasculinity is a huge post on it's own - Potions (brewing, cauldrons - coded as feminine arts), the doe Patronus, his proficiency in Occlumency and Legliemency (intuitive mind arts, again seen archetypically feminine) etc).

"Where are you hoping to go, seeing as you are neither?" - Sirius is quick with emotionally cutting insults. Snape hasn't even finished his sentence, but Sirius is already on his case. Which suggests growing up in a household with sharp tongues. It's a fair assumption, given Mrs Black's half mad portrait. It also tallies with Sirius's talking about his mother: "My mother didn't have a heart Kreacher, she kept herself alive out of pure spite" . The wounds are fresh enough on this. (Another interesting way Snape and Sirius act as inverse mirrors - Snape rejects his father, Sirius rejects his mother. Sirius acts as proxy for James for Harry while Snape takes on Lily's role of protecting him). However, you know who else is spiteful? Sirius.

While James is the physical bully (the tripping Snape, doing most of the bullying in SWM), Sirius attacks emotionally. ( Sample the one about Snape's appearance - "I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment, there will be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word" or even the carelessly vicious- "Put that away, before Wormtail wets himself in excitement"). Curiously, with all that talk of how his mother being spiteful, it's her room he spends time in when he is depressed. (Again, in inverse mirror way, we can talk of how Snape looks for a father figure in Dumbledore - craves his validation and is proud of Dumbledore's trust in him). We could argue it's also because Buckbeak is there, and perhaps it's the largest room in the house, but it's very telling that's where Sirius spends time when he is "in a fit of sullens". Sirius's sense of abandonment from his family, makes him look for family connections with friends - a trait he shares with Harry. Interestingly, the first time he glimpses Harry in Privet Drive, Harry is also running away from home - just like he did. Anyway, I could go on.

[tiesthatbind-tf]

I accidentally deleted 2000 words of story for poor Soundwave last night and had to rewrite everything but tbh, they’re absolutely worthit.  Their armor definitely makes me want to experiment with Celtic motifs for Hot Rod!

Full story below.

Suraya Widodo was born to parents Wijaya and Ni Made Saraswati on the island of Madura, Indonesia. They noticed that something didn’t quite seem right with their baby, who was fussier than most, threw fits when brought into crowded spaces and seemed mostly lost in their own thoughts, though this did little to dampen their love.

The name ‘Widodo’ (healthy) was given to Suraya (despite the masculine nature of it, which does lend to Suraya’s nonchalance about their gender in later years) in hopes that they would grow up alright despite their quirks.

Wijaya, a fisherman who wanted to give his family a better life in the more industrialized town of Bangkalan west of the island, pushed himself hard at his work, hoping to earn enough to allow them to settle down there comfortably.

He began to risk venturing out into ocean areas which were occasionally used as smuggling routes where more lucrative catches laid, careful to fish there during specific times to the day to avoid crossing paths with pirates and smugglers.

However, his luck ran out one day when a smuggling vessel came across him in broad daylight and silenced him from alerting the coast guards to their existence with five shots.

Suraya was five.

Saraswati, desperate to find a way to care for her child as the new breadwinner thought she had gotten lucky when a job scouter for a factory in Bangkalan came to the village. They were looking to offer work to single mothers as part of their corporate responsibility programme and extended the offer of employment to her and promised a hostel and training so she wasn’t out of her depth in the assembly line.

Seeing it as the best option, she left Suraya with her husband’s family while she worked and lived in a worker’s hostel on weekdays and returned to see Suraya every weekend.

She would give money to the family to care for Suraya in her absence, which was crucial since they weren’t fond of Saraswati (they had not agreed to Wijaya’s marriage) and found Suraya’s odd behavior off-putting and claims of ‘hearing voices’ potentially a sign of mental illness (which was fodder for them to demand even more money from Saraswati with the excuse that Suraya was a handful).

This routine continued until Saraswati was suddenly killed in a factory accident.

Suraya was nine.

The compensation for Saraswati’s death was enough for the family for only a few months and after it dried up, the neglect and abuse began. Though at times it was odd because Suraya seemed to know when they were in a bad mood and when they were looking for an outlet for their anger, and  the child would somehow almost always magically disappear during those times.

Then an agent claiming to be from the government came to see them.

He claimed he had heard about Suraya via their mother and wanted to inspect the child to see if they would qualify for a place in a ‘special school’ for ‘different’ children, and this had sounded tame enough to the family, who allowed him to see the shy, withdrawn little waif.

However Suraya immediately could tell what his true intentions were—-to have them locked up in a testing facility to figure out their ‘mutation’—-and attempted to run, only to be caught by his fellow officers outside the home.

The family was paid compensation for officially relinquishing Suraya’s care to the state, and did so without question, only relieved to be rid of their ‘burden’.

Suraya was taken to facility after facility in the state for the first few years to have a battery of tests, many painful, run on them to figure out their ‘special ability’ as an Outlier and to see if it could be replicated.

When they were in their early teens, they were transported overseas to a different facility as a bargaining chip for intel, tech and the like, coming into the ‘care’ of people who intended to use them as a government asset.

They never saw daylight except during transportation and they began to plan their escape as they studied the facility’s layout.

Their first attempt at escape didn’t go well however; they were caught, dragged back and had their eyes burned and blinded as punishment (at this point they had shown their handlers that their highly-enhanced hearing made them capable of navigating the world in total darkness, so said handlers didn’t not see this as ‘damaging the goods’).

If the handlers thought that the punishment would deter them however, it didn’t; Suraya just became more careful and subtle with the planning of their next attempt.

The second attempt came during a transport session where there were less guards and less access to tech to subdue them, though it came with a problem they did not plan for.

In their first attempt, they had tried escaping into the countryside. In this one, they hurled themselves out completely unprepared into a world louder than any world they had ever known; downtown London on a weekend.

The cacophony completely overwhelmed their senses and they barely managed to crawl-stumble into an alley as bounty hunters were enlisted to track them down.

It was here that they ran into one Ramiro Vasquez (Ravage) who was immediately concerned about their situation and once figuring out the nature of their distress, gave them his headphones to drown out the noise and kept them safe and hidden until the bounty hunters had left.

He then took Suraya back to the rented apartment he shared with Lara Soelberg (Laserbeak) and both agreed to let the waif stay with them for as long as they needed to be alright, and the three formed a little familial unit as Suraya grew deeply fond of the two Beast Men whom they saw as two of the most compassionate people in a horrible world.

Ramiro however understood that Suraya needed tutelage to properly harness and deal with their Outlier ability; having heard whispers of a secret Outlier school run Senator Sharifuddin Waseem (Shockwave) and knowing Sharifuddin as one of the few good men in the Senate, he decided to take the risk and confronted the Senator about the matter, promising to keep the secret a secret in return for helping out Suraya.

As it turned out the threats were not necessary, as Sharifuddin was genuinely  concerned for them and came to see them personally at the apartment. Initially,  Suraya was apprehensive about meeting someone else about their abilities, remembering full well how the first such meeting ended, but to their pleasant surprise, they detected no malice in Sharifuddin’s intentions; only the desire to help.

They agreed to enroll in Sharifuddin’s Outlier institute, coming back home to see Ramiro and Lara every weekend.

They excelled in their classes and soon mastered their ability and knew how to deal with the overstimulation that came from it, to the point where they could walk the streets with no problem.

In the wake of murders of Senators Nikomedes Momus and Gayathri Sharma, Suraya offered to become a spy for Sharifuddin, who was determined to solve the deaths, and Sharifuddin began bringing them to Senate meetings under the guise of them being his new aide.

They caught the eye of Senator Radbourne (RatBat) who seemed to pick up the fact that they were an Outlier, but rather than bring up the matter, requested that they work with him as well on.... matters regarding his constituents with disabilities.

Sharifuddin has his reservations about Radbourne and Suraya knew they were up to no good and both agreed to the arrangement so Suraya could dig up more information about them.

As it turned out, Radbourne was dirty as dirty as politicians came, but he had nothing to do with the murders. Rather, he was mostly preoccupied with an individual named Morgan Trayton (Megatron), the same individual whom Omar Parvez (Orion Pax)  a friend of Sharifuddin’s, had mentioned as a great writer.

Radbourne asked Suraya to track down Morgan with an offer the man hopefully wouldn’t refuse and Suraya, intrigued about this man with what they’d heard about him from Omar, agreed to do so.

They found Morgan in a vast underground fighting ring in Moscow, and after voicing some skepticism about him walking his written talk, he allowed them to peek into his mind to see how genuine and committed he was to his cause, and it took them aback for a bit to meet someone who despite being mired in tragedy, had Sharifuddin’s desire to make a better world and the iron will to back it up.

They pledged themself to be among the first members of Morgan’s rising revolution (which was aided by Omar spreading his writings through an underground press) and told them about Radbourne’s offer to supply weapons and augmentations to increase profits from the pitfighting racket.

Morgan agreed if only to use these exact items against the Senate once he’d acquired an army.

It was during this time with Morgan that they also met Ramsey (Rumble) and Friedel (Frenzy), a pair of dwarf miners who the man had been friends with for years, and almost immediately got along with their boisterous, gregarious natures. 

They continued to be Radbourne’s liaison with Megatron until the start of the Clampdown when they watched Morgan kill the owner of the Pit, free those who wanted their freedom and take those who were loyal to him to meet with Sharifuddin to formally establish a rebellion.

It was about this time that Suraya found out that Radbourne had been conducting illegal experiments on Beast Men, something they took grave offense to, and they kept mining Radbourne for more information about where the experiments were taking place.

Upon finding out, they personally hunted down Radbourne as Stefan Scavarro (Starscream) initiated the Senate massacre to Radbourne’s labs, where he tried to fight them off only to finally find out the true extent of their abilities.

Badly-injured, his attempt at stopping them from freeing the captive Beast Men—-his “property” as he would yell at them—-ended up with him hurled into a genetic splicing pod (commissioned from a ‘Mesothulas’) which he accidentally activated.

The process twisted him into a Rat-Bat-human hybrid, and rather than kill him, Suraya decided to leave the option to the Beast Men he tortured for profit in what they saw as poetic justice.

After those who wanted vengeance were done with Radbourne, Suraya gave the  Beast Men the option of leaving free or coming with them to be a part of Morgan’s revolution which would ensure that they were never mistreated and ostracized by the larger world again.

Two of the Beast Men took up the offer; Bastien Saville (Buzzsaw) and Gan Go-eun (Glit).

When Morgan, confident in Suraya’s abilities asked them  to establish their own division focussed on spying and intel gathering, Suraya chose Ramiro, Lara, Ramsey, Friedel and Bastien to work alongside them.

While Suraya occasionally questions Morgan’s actions, two things they have never questioned are his dedication to his cause and the compassion he shows to those they care for, and it’s enough for them to consider themself a true Decepticon till the day his objectives are achieved.

[star-anise]

I read your post about trauma and I'm trying to make sense of my parents treatment of me as well as my own diagnoses. Is anxiety itself trauma? Or a result of trauma? Its the stress response itself not calming down. I think I was and am emotionally neglected. My parents are not sympathetic. I'm adhd anxiety depression my whole life. That post about learning new social situation techniques really resonated. What are the treatments for neglect? Besides plain old cbt and mindfulness and anti anxiety meds

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child neglect, emotional neglect

Anxiety can happen because of a wide variety of reasons, from medical to situational to genetic. It could happen out of the blue to a totally healthy adult. Or it might be a symptom of trauma and a bad childhood. PTSD used to be classified as a kind of anxiety disorder, but we now understand it's a lot more complicated.

I'm very sorry your family aren't sympathetic and don't get what's up with you. I want to make it very clear that it is not your fault that they aren't sympathetic.

It's not your fault for not explaining things clearly enough. It's not your fault for not being a more lovable child. It's not your fault for being emotional or oversensitive. It's not your fault for not communicating your needs in a way they can hear. Their treatment of you is not your fault.

That's important not just because it feels good to be absolved of blame. It's not a meaningless platitude. It's a nicer coating on what can sometimes be a very bleak truth. That truth is:

There is nothing you can do to make your family be sympathetic to you.

I am so, so, so sorry. You can spend your entire life turning backflips, you can learn interpretive dance, you can become the world's leading expert in your field, you can get hit by a car and find out you have cancer, you can be as sympathetic and understanding about their reasons for neglecting you as they could possibly want, you could do everything in your power to be a good child, and none of that will ever give you the power to make your parents be sympathetic to you and what you've been through.

Sometimes parents do learn and grow and change and work to repair the damage done while their kids were children. But that's because of their own issues and experiences and reasons, not because of anything their children have done. Many parents keep being oblivious and neglectful even when their children have become everything a parent could ever hope for.

Actually, an amazing number of my adult neurodivergent friends have had the absolutely excruciating experience of hearing their parents say, in essence, "Hey adult child! The other day someone I respect way more than you told me about [your condition], and I was astonished! They told me that thing you've been telling me for years, and it blew my mind. I now realize that this is a real part of your life! Wow, it sure would have made a difference if I'd done that thing you've been begging me to do for years now, huh? Hey, have you heard about this handy behavioural technique you've been doing every goddamn day of your adult life? It sounds like it would really help!"

Like, even if your parents ever Get It about your specific disorders and conditions, they're extremely likely to salvage their self-esteem by refusing to ever seriously acknowledge how much it's hurt that they've failed you.

And what that means is: You have to plan the rest of your life as if they will never be sympathetic.

That might mean never giving them any say over your medical care or personal life choices. It might mean not living with them, not turning to them when you need a supportive community, or not letting them play a large role in the lives of any children you yourself may have. It might mean having to build your own support network that doesn't include your family at all, because you can't count on them to care when you're in distress. It can really suck to have to keep giving up the dream that one day you'll be able to count on your family to nurture you emotionally, but I promise that it sucks less than being continually disappointed with no backup plan.

Researching emotional neglect can be really difficult because a lot of the best research psychology as a field has achieved on the topic comes from really extreme forms of neglect and abuse. Exactly the kind of neglect and abuse that society waves in the face of the "merely" emotionally neglected: "So what if you didn't get hugged enough! You had enough to eat, a roof over your head, and they never hit you! They weren't even mean or malicious! Stop whining!"

And... look, if you've just broken your legs and you're in a wheelchair, who would you rather learn about using a wheelchair from: someone who can easily walk everywhere all the time, or a double amputee who's been using a wheelchair for years? The first person can probably get around more easily, but the second one can tell you a lot more about the specific challenges and skills that will be central to this phase of your life.

That's the frame I propose for research: Your life might not have been as bad as the case studies you read (though it's probably worse than your family is willing to admit, because invalidation is itself a form of emotional neglect, and this is so common there's even a poem about it) but the issues they encounter and the skills they require are probably useful to you, too.

With that in mind, check out books about early childhood neglect and trauma like The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry, which talks about the parts of the brain and developmental stages that can be impaired by toxic stress in childhood, and the various forms of treatment that can address each one.

As far as CBT, remember to focus on behaviour, not just cognition. Reading about using touch to self-soothe is good, but less powerful than using that knowledge to find a blanket you love to touch, and wrapping yourself up in it whenever you're upset. Neglect means that you failed to get repeated, predictable experiences of being comforted. Healing therefore means getting that practice in as an adult: Creating thousands of daily, repetitive experiences of being cared about. Caring about yourself, and finding people who will care about you.

Maybe also give Dialectical Behaviour Therapy workbooks a try? They're designed for Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be seen as a specific subset of complex trauma. Like, if the effects of childhood abuse and neglect were a rainbow, BPD might be red-orange. But what makes DBT useful is that it has examined which skills and coping mechanisms vital to emotional health people with BPD most commonly weren't taught/never learned/need more practice on. The curriculum might not overlap completely with your own needs if you fall into the yellow, green, blue, or violet aspects of C-PTSD, but it's a good starting place when you're inventorying skills and habits you want to strengthen.

Good luck? I hope this helps!

[theghostnugget]

Hiei has C-PTSD

This is going to be a long-ass post so get a cup of hot cocoa, get comfy with a nice blanket, turn the lights down low and get ready to feel sad

I hope I make you cry

Content Warning: Non-graphic discussions of neglect, abuse, suicidal thoughts, exposure to violence in childhood, trauma reactions... Please feel free to tell me if there's anything else I missed

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Complex Post Traumatic Stress disorder can both be more severe if:

The trauma happened early in life (which for Hiei it definitely did considering he's 14 at the oldest at the beginning of the series)

The trauma was caused by the primary caregiver - We see the guy he refers to as his father for about five seconds but in those scant seconds we see a drunk who's willing to steal from a baby and then abandon that baby after years of exposing him to violence. At best, Hiei grew up in an emotionally neglectful environment where he was constantly exposed to death and bloodshed, taught that his emotions were a weakness, and taught to be violent himself if he wanted to survive - I can only assume there was other forms of abuse that we didn't see because Hiei wasn't willing to share them with Mukuro - who was practically a stranger at that point

The trauma lasted a long time - His whole life has been bouncing from one horrific event to the next - Taken from his mom, almost murdered, taken in by beligerent assholes, abandoned by said assholes, constantly taking care of his own safety from a young age in an environment where no one seems to have qualms about murdering a child for a necklace, losing the only item that matters to him and the only connection to his family, an incredibly painful surgery that took away his ability to defend himself, finding out his mother killed herself over grief about losing him, finding out his sister went missing also because of him, finding his sister only to A. hate himself too much to tell her the truth and B. realize she's been tortured for 5 years and he didn't save her, OH and let's not forget that in season 2 his life is threatened if he doesn't join a life-or-death tournament and in season 3 he is forced to helplessly watch as one of his only friend's is murdered in front of him

...

Now that that's out of the way, let's get into the actual symptoms

PTSD has symptoms that mostly fall into 3 categories: Re-experiencing, Avoidance, and Sense of Threat

~ Re-experiencing consists of things like nightmares, flashbacks, and triggers that cause trauma responses

The only time we see Hiei sleep (as opposed to being knocked unconscious by the Dragon of the Darkness Flame) is on the way to rescue Yukina where he wakes up gasping for air and reaching out for his sister

I can't think of any flashback examples (but to be fair I haven't watched the series in it's entirety for a hot minute and as someone with PTSD I very rarely have waking flashbacks) - This also might be because we rarely get to see inside Hiei's head because the story is from Yusuke's perspective

However, when it comes to triggers I think he can easily be triggered by people questioning his strength or claiming to be stronger than him - In part because in the past that usually meant someone was about to attack him and in part because in order to feel any semblance of safety, he needs to believe he's too strong to ever be the victim again. That's why he says "hot", and why he leaves the team for several episodes after being told he's not an A class demon, and why he sacrifices his entire arm to take Zeru out in one hit

~ Avoidance symptoms consist of all the steps a person takes to avoid re-experiencing their trauma

For Hiei, this mostly means never appearing weak, but it also includes fun things like isolating himself from friends and family/never trusting others/cutting off his relationship with Yukina because you can't be hurt by the people you care about if you never let yourself care about anyone

I think the reason he engages in so many reckless and destructive behaviors (which is another symptom of C-PTSD) and part of the reason he was suicidal is because it's less scary to be hurt or killed if you're the one making the choice to put yourself in harm's way - rather than feeling safe and having that safety ripped away from you

I have no evidence for this but I also believe he dissociates regularly (yet another symptom) - like 1/2 the time he's staring dramatically out the window (or up at the sky from a high tree branch) he's brooding like you'd expect, but the other half he's full on floating away from his body - completely out of touch with his thoughts and feelings and even his sense of identity

~ Sense of Threat Symptoms

This is where Hiei really shines (or, I guess struggles is a better word)

His whole character can be boiled down to trauma-induced hyper-vigilance

He doesn't trust anyone, he's always worrying about outside attack, he never relaxes, I don't even think he blinks unless he's alone because that split second could be the difference between life and death

Another reason he never lets people close is because they can't be trusted - they feel unsafe to be around let alone trust with his thoughts and feelings (which he considers to be weaknesses easily turned against him)

Hiei's worse nightmare is losing his sword and being unable to access his energy because (and I cannot stress this enough) the only way he has ever been able to feel any semblance of safety is because he convinced himself that he was the strongest person around - The concept of "there's always someone stronger than you" would make him spiral into a dark, deep anxiety hole that I'm not sure he'd ever be able to climb out of

~ So, those are symptoms typically associated with PTSD, but C-PTSD comes with a whole slew of fun, new symptoms such as:

Problems with self-esteem: Nothing makes his feelings towards himself more clear than the fact that he never told Yukina who he is because he was certain that she would hate him - he feels fundamentally broken and unloveable - someone who belongs nowhere but on his own

Emotional Dysfunction: Emotional reactions that are super intense and often innapropriate for the situation - For Hiei this almost always means anger (because that's the only emotion he actually allows himself to express) but I imagine after the show, as he gets more comfortable with the team, he also starts to react strongly to fear stimuli which leads to him have panic/anxiety attacks over things that wouldn't provoke such a strong response in someone who wasn't a walking, talking personification of trauma reactions.

Besides anger, sadness, and dissociation, people with C-PTSD might have trouble feeling happy, even in the best of situations - We see him laugh 2 times (BOTH TIMES BECAUSE OF YUSUKE - BE STILL MY SOFT SHIPPER HEART)

Also, PTSD/C-PTSD often brings along some other painful friends like depression and anxiety (both of which I think Hiei has - along with either an avoidant or disorganized attachment style)