#tw harm to children

[domina-honoribila]

My daughter cut her finger really badly and we're in the ER, please keep her in your prayers. She may have severed a tendon.

Her name is Maria.

Update: she needs surgery on Friday to repair the tendon. She's only 4.

Update Two: she will not need surgery! They think it will heal on its own. Thanks for the prayers!

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

ok info dumping about the old au I had. mostly just precanon stuff bc I just wanna get something out so I can sleep but I can talk about the rest tommorow if u want.

so! during one of eda's trips to the human realm, 6 year old luz ends up stumbling across the portal and accidentally ends up getting herself stranded in the demon realm (and since she’s very frightened and confused, she doesn’t go up to eda, so eda never actually realised this happened).

after a while, though, news of a tiny human child does end up spreading, and luz quickly gets caught by the coven scouts. understandably, she’s terrified and she’s convinced she's going to be killed but obviously that doesn’t happen bc y’know. random scouts aren’t going to kill a toddler for existing. that’s not a crime.

when belos hears about her he’s obviously immediately like “another human lost in this world? clearly it is just like me and caleb and i need to protect this sole other human from the Dangers Of This Realm for reasons completely unrelated to me trying to make caleb 2. obviously.” so adoption (derogatory) ends up happening.

and this Isn’t Great for luz for what are hopefully obvious reasons. being raised in an incredibly sheltered environment by a bigoted extremist who's also really fucking abusive isn’t a fun time. luz does try to escape for a while, and while she doesn’t because she’s six she does end up discovering some pretty secure hiding places. and in hiding, she sees and learns a lot she was never meant to.

still, she's being actively indoctrinated into a cult, so despite what she sees, she still trusts and believes in her adoptive father because she doesn’t know any better. she assumes what happens must be normal or necessary. after all, shes just a silly human, regular old luz who just is completely unremarkable in everything but failure. it bothers her a lot that she can’t do much to help.

when she first arrives, our hunter doesn’t even exist yet, and the old golden guard who was dariuses mentor is still around. i mean by old hes like in his twenties max but that’s ancient by grimwalker standards at this point. he sort of becomes this mentor figure to luz, too, and she really idolises him. she wants to be just like him, in how he's able to do so much without magic. she's really close to him.

which means it hits hard when he's killed. especially since, unseen by anyone in an unnoticed corner somewhere, she sees it happen. it traumatises her quite a lot, though she's good at hiding it and never lets it slip she was somewhere she wasn’t meant to be. when the new hunter comes around, though, she does take it out on this weird new young copy of someone who was practically an older brother to her. not intentionally, and not to like, a huge degree, but she's very distant to him at first.

they do eventually grow very very close, due to basically being the only person the other is allowed to really talk to, and luz stops seeing him as some sort of replacement. after all, they might look similar, but they act completely different! the old hunter was always calm, always reliable, but the new one is young and scared and needs a guiding hand through life in the castle, which luz is of course able to provide.

luz and hunter grow up in quite similar ways. luz is allowed to leave the castle much less- after all, it’d be a shame to lose the only other human left in some silly mission- but she's generally physically harmed a lot less too, though she does have a few scars that no one her age should have. both of them are manipulated and emotionally abused frequently, and are lead along by promises of a false destiny.

while hunter, of course, falls into a blind obedience, luz is privately a lot more sceptical. not that she doubts her papa is trying his best and doing the right thing, of course, but she worries he's going about it all the wrong way. while this makes her more easily swayed, she’s also unlikely to give up her views that wild magic is dangerous even if she realises her life was a lie. clearly, he must have been corrupted from a once noble goal.

she's also desperately lonely, and privately longs for friends that she knows she’s not allowed. when she has the time, she reads and rereads all the fiction available in the library, and desperately imagines herself as one of the young witches in them, able to go outside freely and talk to whoever they like and have adventures! but she knows she'll never be like that. after all, what are the odds she'd ever make it on her own, even if she somehow left the castle despite not knowing how.

(until, of course, a freak accident on a mission leaves her ending up unwillingly in the care of the owl lady, who doesn’t know who she is but knows she’s a human and someone who needs help, and surely it wouldn’t be that bad if she spent just a few days with a wild witch, right? surely she could make a few friends among the populace, right? no one would even know.)

[furiousgoldfish]

Hitting children will make children believe harming them is normal. I remember as a child, I would cause pain to myself without thinking twice, or even considering there could be anything wrong with it; after all, everyone else was eager to cause me pain and treated it as normal. I grew up thinking that any form of being harmed, and self-harm was normal behaviour because it was so common and normal for me. I couldn't understand when others would get upset seeing a mark or an injury, it was just what was done, a normal part of my life.

A child used to being hit will not question when their bullies hit them, nor when their friends do. They will feel normal with a partner who violates and hits them because it's what they're already used to. And is this the point of parenting? To have a child who doesn't think twice before harming themselves, and having others harm them? Is this what you want your child's life to be, abusive friendships, relationships, and self harm, treated as normal, dismissed and even ridiculed?

If you are not able to teach your child that anyone lifting a finger at them is wrong, you've failed your job as a parent. If your child sees violence as an everyday occurrence, they never had a parent, they were left on their own in the hands of violence.

Self harm can cause addiction and ultimately death, it's not something to normalize or laugh about. It's not something to teach your child as acceptable or normal. It's not something you do to gain a rush of power and control, while your child learns that being beaten down is correct to do to them if someone is angry, or annoyed, or just having a bad day. To consistently use violence against a child will put them in the endless fight-or-flight state, their life will be one of constant anticipation of violence, and inability to relax. This not only means they won't be able to enjoy their life, have normal growth, have a normal childhood, focus and learn as they want to, make connections with other people, or feel safe, their brain chemistry will change into the one that doesn't allow them to relax or calm down until they've experienced pain.

A child who needs pain to feel normal is not the end goal of parenting, it's a despicable thing to do. It's against human nature. If you did this to your child, I have no words bad enough to describe you.

[hussyknee]

I'm in tears. This little girl INSISTED on being rescued last of all her family, especially begging them to help her sister and baby brother. They had to rescue her first of course, but the way they talk to her and keep her calm is to heartbreakingly gentle. I hope this brave, selfless girl was able to lead the rescuers to her family and that they're safe now.

We can't know what happened to her for certain because the photojournalist from the Civil Defence who filmed this, Mahmoud Saleh, was killed by Israeli strikes shortly after. He's the 75th journalist murdered by Israeli forces since October 7th.

If there is a heaven all of these people belong there. If there is a hell Israel should burn in it.

[gl1tt3r-gutz-and-r0b0tz-sl]

Me: I've never cried from horror before. What could go wrong?

I've never bawled my eyes out harder

I'm sad now :(

[dontfuckmylifewtf]

I might delete tiktok again. These guys are crazy.

Just saw a post of a minor who had all their personal information sent to them on discord because they're rcta (race change to another). The comments went on and supported doxxing them and bullied so hard. Has humanity left your fucking brain? Basic empathy?

I do not support rcta, but I absolutely do not support bullying either. Tiktok is fucking nuts.

[anophelei]

at best there genuinely isn't a meaningful function that this "pedohunter" callout shit serves. you know full fucking well that all forms of abuse are ignored and brushed aside, child abuse being worse, and csa being the most severely unaddressed of all. even if you think such crimes are the exception to prison abolition or death sentences, you know that law enforcement is criminally negligent in handling them, if they even fucking bother. and if they do bother in cases of csem/csam and online exploitation, they explicitly DO NOT make it a public as any form of public acknowledgement is detrimental to collecting evidence and establishing a case; if you sound the alarm you're simply giving an opportunity for people to cut and run while burning as much evidence as possible on the way out. THIS is WHY the fbi doesn't acknowledge anonymous tips, it would only end up being an easy way to confirm if you're being investigated.

at most all you can hope for in making a callout post is some small amount of community awareness, maybe helping keep people away from abusers, but there are a lot of fucking consequences in doing so holy shit. first, it signals that it's time to ditch and set back up elsewhere; if someone online is looking into it then you can be sure as shit law enforcement is at least aware of the situation, ESPECIALLY when you explicitly make note of NOTIFYING THE FBI AND LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT ??? I'm sorry you didn't get a fucking medal for recording and cataloguing shit, but you most likely didn't even have to do that and doing so hinders investigations given how long that takes, you don't have the resources or jurisdiction so you've just delayed any investigation from people who do.

second, even IF you handle everything perfectly and with the delicacy something like this requires, you are further traumatising the victims and retraumatising survivors by blasting the very real abuse and exploitation they've suffered through into the public sphere, quite literally showcasing it with the goal of as many people as possible seeing it. you are not going to do that though, you're going to fuck it up in some way, and this whole situation is clear proof of that. the ways in which toonimal has been handled irresponsibly are too many to fucking count, and the sheer negligence and lack of care has resulted in victims' information being readily available. Even if no direct harm comes as a result of the spotlight you've placed on the victims and where and how to find them, being exposed as a victim before you've even come to terms with it yourself, not to mention the painful processes necessary to fully acknowledge what was done to you, and then to be ready to talk about it after, IS REALLY GOD DAMN FUCKING TRAUMATISING. you are forcing victims through years of pain and confusion and grief and loss without even the slightest consideration of what that might be like, and this isn't the type of thing where biting the bullet is necessary or at all helpful. in reality, pushing victims to reconcile with realisations that will haunt them for the rest of their lives is only likely to result in denial, you are directly hindering victims from recovery and pushing them CLOSER to their abusers, who WILL capitalise on their conflicted emotional state to isolate them further and draw them closer.

If it doesn't stop the abuse and it doesn't help victims, the only thing it could be doing is making you feel good about yourself for your catastrophically misguided attempt at sticking it to LITERAL CHILD ABUSERS, which is the most patently fucking pathetic shit you could ever hope to accomplish. what you care about is your own deluded notion of getting the bad guy, and this is only further evidenced in every single person who responds to and shares your pitiful self aggrandizement frothing at the mouth and chomping at the bit over how badly they want to kill these sick freaks, how righteous they are for that, and how far beneath them the degenerate monsters are.

yeah, child abusers are fucking bad people, you're not special for thinking so, and you're not accomplishing ANYTHING when you dehumanise them purely for the sake of posturing. you only manage to make it patently fucking obvious that you hold both yourself and the people who sexually abuse children to be more important than the victims could ever be.

you truly cannot comprehend the idea of even considering us, of acknowledging us as anything more than an abstract concept only significant in the fact that we have determined someone to be guilty. I'm an adult, I've been in mental health care for quite literally half my life, I can handle your callous disregard for what was done to me and the countless, immeasurable ways in which it affected me.

A child can't.

Maybe you should ask yourself why you've never once reacted with grief for the victims, have only ever considered crucifying sinners. Why you've never cared to – or even considered the possibility of – learning the ways to recognise when a child is being abused, the potential to help them recognise if something is being done to them, to realise it if so. It might actually help someone, and it's not like calling for heads on the fucking internet could ever hope to accomplish anything. Give up the pretentions of giving a single shit about us and maybe actually do it for once in your life.

[uncanny-tranny]

Can we all collectively start to view parents who post online about the "fuck-ups" their child did as what it is - abusive? I genuinely do not care about the "reason" somebody has for posting their child on the internet, if it can be "solved" in the public court of shame and humiliation, it can be solved in a home that should love them.

Public humiliation is not an appropriate response to a child being a child. If your first line of defense is airing out your dirty laundry to millions of strangers, you are at best not mature enough to be a parent, and at worst, you are completely abusive and should not be a parent, and both options are pretty grim.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Experiment(s) Gone Wrong Au: Wordgirl Edition

This is an au series that I will also include in the glass scientists universe. If anyone wants to let me put their ocs or au characters in this au let me know. This au includes what if scenarios. Like for the Wordgirl universe, what if Steven's accident with the mind reading device was a lot worse than canon. This will also include ideas that if a villain or someone on the show created something that blew up in their face but very horribly. Also will include characters getting experimented on. Trigger warnings: A lot of body horror and trauma included. This will also include villain kids and experimentation. Post length will very. This is a horror and dark au. Read at your own risk. The Glass Scientists variation of this au will be on my side blog @thecountoflondonfansite

[grim-faux]

X8 _ An Unfortunate Side Effect

First – A Small Quiet

Trigger Warning for bad habits and harmful habits around children. Please do not smoke or use other controlled substances that are not given by a licensed professional. Read on with caution.

And reiterating that smoking is not condoned or considered/portrayed as cool or beneficial to people who struggle with addictions. The Thin Man does not understand such concepts, smoking is simply something that he is 'supposed' to do, and he does use the affects to mellow him out. He's a grown ass man who was raised by an a flesh monsters disguised as a Tower. End PSA

Who could have thought routines would be detested by one who had spent countless decades (if not centuries) trapped within a perpetuating cycle?

No, the Thin Man wandered the roads, he chose paths at his whim or stalled at his fancy. He was not confided to a set route; he held no obligations to the repetition of a loop he fought to untangle from – if tentatively at this point. Though he still felt confided to the hypothetical cycle unyielding, he was liberated in some manner to meander into this room or judge that building, and decide the next course to take. He could scrutinize the signs on buildings, ascertain if the mark speek elaborated upon the contents within, and deduce if they might yield insight of his situation, or if it would be a probable location to give a pause and reconsider his life choices.

It was rare that the Thin Man lingered for any duration of time, if only to allow a particularly challenging wave of storms to pass, or allow the small creature huddled in his shadow the opportunity to nest down and find some food. It was usually when said creature had sufficed all interest in the specific zone, that the Thin Man returned to his wanderings. He could infer this, typically by when the smallers harassment intensified to unbearable levels.

The room was in bearable shape, bone dry and scarce of all vermin (save for one). This good quality had saved a few books from utter dissolution, which allowed his focus to preen through the pages. Some of the letters had faded, and the pages were a slate gray, yet he could make out enough. Which he stubbornly threaded through.

“Are you done ransacking the kitchen?” posed the arched figure. The desk was unforgivable short, the chair had faults as well – it wobbled nefariously, until he had mended the issue. He could not mend the owner of the face, peering up at him from beside one tall stack of books. Nor did he anticipate an answer.

He could sense the boy was in one of his moods.

“Did I not pose a question?” he prompted, once more. This time, the gaze wavered and the child inched back beside the books. “Ḥ̸̪̋m̴̩͈̀̕ṃ̶̽̇?”

The boy huddled down beside the corner of the books, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat and concealing his face under his latest hat. It was possible the location had nothing that the child could make use of, nonetheless, he would not know for certain unless he was given speek.

The Thin Man adjusted the cigarette in his fingers and took a slow drag. “Do you need something? D̶̯́ǐ̸̪d̴̟̽ ̷͇͝ Ȳ̸̥o̴̪͠u̵̹̿ find  ̵͛͜S̵̯͋ö̸̦m̸̼̒e̸̮̿t̴͉͐ḫ̴͗i̷̹̒n̵̰̈g̶͇͐?” He worked to press his focus into the tome, rather than the scrap of fabric that blew after his heels across all the streets.

For whatever reason, the child shuffled away from the books and ‘tiptoed’ closer to where he was propped up on his elbow.

S̷̪̍i̷͉̒g̷̥͐h̶͓̄.̷̩͝

As per tradition, he pretended to be unaware of this movement. In fact, the child ceased to exist altogether. Unless he made speek, the Thin Man was not interested in decoding the cryptic needs.

A tug came to the sleeve of the arm, which held his more interesting book aloft. Not a sound though. Hence, he gave the boy not the moment. The child’s emergence was progress, was it not? Not that he cared. His acknowledgment of the child was to brush off his sleeve, and sweep away the boy.

This had the negative desire, as now he had a child latched onto his fingers and biting.

The Thin Man exhaled smoke and tried flicking the vandal away (this never worked). “I have Ṋ̵́ỏ̶̞ ̶̭̒ I̷͍̐n̶̛͍t̸̼̽ē̷͍r̵̡̄e̴̟͂ș̴̈t̶̖̀ in your  ̶̗͌T̷̤͋ŗ̵̕i̶̹̿ṿ̵̚i̵͔͑ą̵͛l̷̻͌ nonsense.” Usually he got a hiss or some calamity of gibberish, but the boy was being rigidly hushed. “What is the M̸̰̉e̵̗͊a̷̖̽n̴̤̐i̶̺͐n̴͖͝g̷̞̍ ̷͚̒ of T̵̖͘h̵̻̄ị̸̑s̸̤͗?”

With his hands occupied by book and cigarette, he was left with no functional way of dealing with the boy. He set aside his reading, then reached over and peeled up one of the legs hooked around his pinky. An effort was made by the child to latch onto his cufflink with his teeth, but with a firm tug that scheme was dismantled. Now, he had his hand liberated, though he was likely in the same predicament. The child was brutish about taking a hint and leaving well enough alone, he should know.

Dangling the boy by his ankle, he leaned onto the desk with his elbow supporting him and watched, amused, as the boy curled up to grapple with the fingers pinching his ankle. Still not a noise or anything. That was interesting, at least. Well, aside from the audible Plop! the hat produced when it smacked the desk’s surface. It was comical. He could feel the laugh track roar in his head.

“D̵̲̓ŏ̸̘ you even K̴̡̾ṅ̵̦ọ̷̈́w̵̥̎ ̷̜͝ why you are T̷̈́ͅò̸̜r̷͙̈́m̴̻͌ē̴̖n̶̘̄t̵̠̔i̵͉͒ń̸͔g̶̫̾ me? Or is this S̵̢̎ö̷͍́m̷̠̐e̸̼̊ ̶͕̈ S̶͕͌ō̴̼r̶͙͑t̸̥̓ ̶̡̚ of Í̶̗m̵̰͌p̶̀ͅų̷́l̸̹̔s̵͖̓e̴̹̾ in your  ̴̱̈́M̷̞͝e̵̡͘n̶̥͝a̶̋͜c̶̙̊e̷̗̓ criteria?” He doubted the boy knew, let alone understood that sting of sounds. The Thin Man fancied twirling the child, which kept him from prying at his narrow ankle.

“What should I do with this child? What should I̶̡̥̅̎̆̉͛ ̵̭̗̞͈̖̃́̍͘͝D̷͈̄̀̏ơ̵̢̩̬̻̰͗? Hmm…” The boy had no input, other than to spin. “Nothing? Not even a G̵̛̠͒̾̌̆r̷̡̯̪̥̥͔̾͐͊̊̓͝ơ̸̡̟̠̤̗͒͂̅̌w̵̛̥̣̟̙͛l̵̼̼̺̥̔͌̿́͝ͅ?̷͎̒̾́͝ͅ? Grr….” He enunciated it, but this received no reaction. Not that the Thin Man could tell with the way the child was twirling.

“W̵͕̟͋ͅḣ̸͕̣̓͝y̶̤͗͊  ̷̩͕͌́̍Ḛ̷͋͐v̶͓̩̱̈́̓̋ȇ̵̙̝n̶̤͚͆͠ ̷͙̋͠ͅ put yourself T̸̫̆h̸͇̋r̵̻̟̃̅̀ō̶̫u̸͕̯͒͌̇͜g̶͓͇̾̉h̸͙̆̔ ̶̭̖̼̉͘ T̸͎̉͠h̶͉̭͊͂̈́ị̸̧̅̈́̇s̵͓͋̕, if your are not going T̵̜̔o̴̧̗̊̋ ̵̩̬̆͗ E̸̥͊n̷͚͔͑͂g̷̲̒a̵̢̠͑͗g̷͉̑e̵͈̽ those powers you N̶͙̔e̶̼͝g̷͎͑l̷̖͋ẽ̵͉ć̶̯t̵̪̏?” The boy could easily, very EASILY relocate to a different location altogether. If anything, the child could escape his grasp with a flicker. He was certain. The boy refused. “You F̴r̴u̴s̸t̶r̶a̷t̶e̵  ̷M̷e̵.” The child continued twirling. He had no right to look offended, affronted, or whatever.

Until he let the vandal drop onto the tables surface. He made sure to lower the boy a tad bit before releasing him. “Why not H̴u̴n̶t̶  ̵D̸o̵w̷n̸ ̶ some other C̴r̶e̴a̷t̵u̸r̸e̷ ̴ to T̵o̵r̷m̸e̸n̸t̶?̷” It appeared the child would not be frolicking off to dismantle the abhorrent Viewers or whatever sort of fiend he might have the misfortune of crossing paths with.

Right away, the boy launched to his feet. But fell over. He rolled over and tried once more, only for repeated results. Again, and again. And. Again. The child stumbled sideways, pivoted on his toes, and toppled to his knees. Before he could even begin to recover, the boy tipped sharply to his side and flopped to his back.

The Thin Man practically face palmed. When he looked down again, the boy was still tipsy but managed to stand on his two feet and glower up at him. He had to emphasize that “glowered up”, since the child looked ridiculous with how he wobbled. The Thin Man took a deep draw on his cig and leaned down. He was disappointed when the ruffian did not tumble down the way he anticipated after the cliché puff, though the alarmed expression was worth it.

“Ĺ̷̬ē̵̖ä̵͙r̸͔͂n̶̖̊ȩ̴̌d̸͍̎ ̴̪͝ your L̸̝͒ĕ̵̥s̵̪̀ś̶̝ó̵̖n̵̙̆,̵̈́͜ ̴̭͐ yet?” he smirked. The boy snorted and snarled. At last, some noise! “There W̷e̵ ̶G̷o̷. When I ̴W̵a̵n̷t̸ ̴S̷p̴e̶e̴k̴,̶ you  ̴W̶i̸l̵l̵ —” He cut off, when the child crashed to the table and continued snorting and hacking. Wetly. That did not sound right.

The Thin Man tilted his head and arched his brow. “B̸o̵y̸. Why must you be so ̸D̷r̶a̸m̴a̴t̷i̵c̷?” If anything, this was insulting. Though by increments, it began to dawn on him this could be serious.

The child hunched over on his hands and feet to hack full bodily into the surface beneath him, choking and wheezing with every grasp for the musty air. Never had the loathsome environment given the child such a reaction – none of the dust, putrid air, or fouled crawlspaces the boy navigated, ever put him into such a fit. And the lad was buckled forward, croaking with every iota of his being while also fighting back the sounds he could not feign off.

“What have you done now?” Clearly, the child had gotten into something. This explained his reluctance for the speek. “M̴o̷n̵o̵?̸ ̶What D̷i̷d̷ ̵ Y̵o̶u̶ get  ̶I̸n̶t̶o̷? Make some speek for me.”

That was likely an impossibility, as the child choked back another retched snort. This was the Thin Man’s cue to crush out his cigarette and scoop up the boy. He glitched out of the room, bypassing the short – but at this time infinite hall – locating the kitchen space in a few pops. His outlined sputtered as he set the child on the counter, he dragged open the drawers with a glimmer of his powers. When he found a rag, he hastily drenched and rinsed the musty compress before applying it to the child’s face.

“What I̸̦͝n̶̠͋ ̸̰̚ T̴̟̾h̸̳͝e̷̠̿ ̸̙̑ T̵͎̂ò̷̝w̶̻̄e̴̖̓r̸͕̂ ̴͙͂ did you do? How do you M̷̩̓ạ̴̾ǹ̴̯a̸͖͐g̶̖̍e̴̹̐ ̴̣͝such events? Huh?” The Thin Man did not wait for chirps or utterances, he did his best to wipe the coat and matted hair of anything that could be the cause of this irritation. “Are you L̵i̴s̷t̵e̵n̸i̷n̸g̶ to me?”

Probably not. He gave the child a brief glimpse, seeing only watering eyes twisted shut and a nose that was a faucet. And of course, more of that retched rattling gasps. The squeaks devolved into creaking whimpers that barely sounded like an animal, never mind a child. The child was a repulsive mess. “What have I told you about being C̴̺̃ạ̴̓u̸̡͆ț̶̑i̷̹͆õ̶̡ũ̸͕s̸͍̑  ̸̩̐W̵̨͛h̶̻̿e̷̜͊r̴̳͌e̷͕͛ you  ̷̯͒R̸͕͛u̸̖͆m̵͉͆m̷͕̄ḁ̸͗g̷̯̈ê̷̪?̷̭̃ ” The dread that the child tumbled into a child trap laced with toxins now festered in his head.

What would he do?

“Hold on. I’ll make you better. Hold on.” The Thin Man did his best to clean the scum off the child’s face and fix him up. That did succeed in subsiding the hoarse choking and most of the hacking. He draped the boy over his palm and rubbed his back, working to massage out the gurgling phlegm sounds hitching and gargling. “There. Let it out. That’s right. There we go. Try breathing….” It unsettled him how the boy struggled for the barest of breath. “Easy…. Slow breaths. Slower. Like I showed you. Deep breath in, and then exhale. That’s goo—”

He shut up when the boy pitched forward on his hand and vomited. Or dry heaved. Nothing came up, but it nonetheless sounded grotesque. Ew.

“There,” he grimaced, struggling to control the obscene crackle in his voice. “That… er, that should make you feel better.” Nothing really came out, but the child’s breathing at last eased. Sort of. The harsh quaking racked through his ribs, and the body persisted to rasp and convulse. “Easy. Easy there.” Once the child’s gasping settled a bit more, he gave him a few careful pats. Just to make certain all the foul was worked out of his child.

“Feeling better?” Without lifting the child, he leaned close to the counter to check the boy. He was given no response, aside from a sniffling-wheeze. “You look leagues better.” A wet sneeze smacked his palm. His lip twitched, yet there was nothing to do about it.

Raising himself and the child up with him, the boy settled against his collar as he began to move. The Thin Man continued to rub at his back while he searched around the kitchen, hunting for whatever put the child in such sorts. With a flick of the transmission, he forced doors to the cabinets open, and wrenched open the cupboards beneath the counter. One handed – he kept Mono secure to his collar – his hand rifled through, seeking out any spore or dust that must have contaminated the boy.

“What in the Tower did you stumble into?”

A wet hiccup spared no insight. While the child wiped his muggy nose on his collar. Never mind. He dismissed the kitchen area and prowled into the other rooms. It was not uncommon for food offerings to get laced with toxins in the denizens efforts to ‘fix’ the pest infestation. Though he expected his boy to be savvy about such dangers – most children knew better. At times, the corrupt offerings could be disguised and at others, children were desperate. This was not the typical MO of a toxic contaminate, but who knew all the effects of poisons.

“Did you fall into something?” No response. Slight snorts and whining were the only reply, accompanied by a faint snorting and a faint ‘tweeing’, whenever the child wheezed. “What did you get into, child? It is important that I know.” The boy did begin to burble something.

“C̴o̷m̵e̵  ̵A̸g̷a̷i̵n̶?̷”

The boy did not reiterate or adjust his speek. It was more incoherent grumbling. He should be gratified by that amount of speek in leu of the total absence of noise.

“Focus on your breathing,” he rumbled. Searching through the remaining few rooms absorbed a good portion of his focus, but the Thin Man did manage to enforce his point by stroking Mono’s back. None of the obscure corners or out of view spaces under a cabinet or bed proffered any sort of contaminate that might explain the child’s reaction. The fear that the child may have chewed on something arguably nonedible did weight on his thoughts, yet he held out hope that he would discover some clever ruse that would have duped a desperate boy. He resisted interrogating the child further for the time.

“That is better, is it not?” A croaky hiccup was the most optimistic noise. “There-there. No more W̶h̷e̵e̸z̶i̵n̸g̵.̴” He really did not evaluate if there was much improvement, instead opting for another patrol of the common spaces in his last gambit to locate some clue. None of which was forth coming. And the child had nothing coherent to supply for the broiling mystery, aside from wet sniffling.

The Thin Man once again wandered into the kitchen, and once again stood before the sink. He adjusted the tap for a fine trickle and took a ‘fresh’ towel from the open drawer. The fabric was stiff and dank from centuries of forgot, but once liquid was applied to the fiber it softened considerably. Setting the boy down on the counter, he kept the vandal caged by his hand while scrubbing off the stale layer of yuck.

“C̵e̷a̵s̷e̴ ̶ M̵o̷v̷i̸n̸g̵.̶” The boy was going nowhere, but his wriggling made it impossible to scrub. “The more you fight T̴h̴e̶  ̶L̷o̴n̶g̸e̸r̷ ̷ this T̶a̸k̵e̸s̸.” This warning went unheeded, and the child had his teeth latched onto the rag. With a croaking growl.

The boy began chewing the rag and wrestle it, while raising one leg to kick at his fingers. The Thin Man utilized this time to reexamine the flushed face, and rake his knowledge over any insight if this was a normal complexion. Nothing about Mono’s complexion was normal, even for a child. The boy might have resembled the typical child for now, or not. The man in the hat could not say with certainty. The feisty boy still fought the rag, even though he retired the item and let the ruffian clutch the thing in his arms. He had a habit for rassling anything he could get his arms around – plush animals; a sock, his hand when set on a table.

“What are you doing?” he posed. He did not move his other hand from the child’s backside, though he was no longer restraining the boy. To the inquiry, the boy dipped his head down and bit more onto the rag. “It is not alive. Nor is it further harassing you.”

The child pressed further back against his palm and kept his head down. Nodding. A residual wheeze creaked beneath the buzzing from the Thin Man's residual suspicion. The Thin Man crinkled his brows. Was the ailment still complicating the speek?

“Still U̷n̶w̶e̶l̷l̸?” Not expecting any form of noise, the Thin Man scooped the child up and placed him against his collar. As expected, the boy abandoned his battle with the rag in favor of latching onto his shirt. It was quite typical for children to huddle into their little child clusters for warmth during the rest times, but the excessive clinginess persisted to disturb him. It was wrong for the boy, this particular child, to behave in this way. This dependency should have been weaned off him ages back, when the girl abandoned him to his fate.

“This is unbecoming B̴e̷h̵a̶v̶i̵o̸r̸. You cannot be reliant on others. It never E̸n̵d̸s̶ ̶W̷e̶l̷l̷ for you.” The child burbled against his collar. Really.

“Keep.”

“N̸o̵t̶ ̶ F̶o̷r̴e̶v̵e̴r̷. You will T̴i̶r̵e̶  ̴of M̵e̵ and run away. That is what you A̵l̵w̷a̶y̸s̵  ̵D̵o̴."  Following a brief stall, he added, "That is how all children are.”

“No….”

“Y̷e̶s̸,” he fizzed. The boy kept his face pressed into his collar, hiding as the Thin Man peered down to the best of his ability. “I̵t̵ is  ̵W̴h̷a̸t̵ ̵ you A̴r̸e̵. I̵t̵ ̸ is W̵h̶a̵t̵ ̴ you B̴e̷c̷o̷m̶e̶.”

And what would the boy become? That was the pondering query which haunted him the long hours he spent roaming the soddened roads. The boy left to his own devices would become the thing, the creature, the only thing the Thin Man feared. Hated.

The man in the hat.

He sighed, and the child hacked into his shirt.

“T̷h̶e̸ ̶ S̵t̵r̴a̶n̶g̵e̶ ̵ C̶h̶i̸l̶d̴.̴” He hated being the one child that was different. It was cruel that despite all that he fought for and wanted, was thrown aside. “So ̵U̷n̷h̸a̸p̷p̸y̷.̴ ̶M̷i̴s̵e̴r̴a̶b̴l̵e̶.̸ I will never U̶n̷d̷e̴r̵s̶t̷a̶n̷d̶ you, little one.”

The boy that knew not of his fate, of the destiny awaiting him at the end of the hall. Not until the latch clicked, the door handle dropped, and all the secrets he ever had engulfed his entire being. He had felt everything in that short span of time, aged faster than a child of this world aged. Experienced every stage of emotion, felt the burden of loss and regret unlike a child of this world had ever felt. It destroyed the boy he once was.

Lost in his musings, the Thin Man had wandered through the corridors until he was in one of the spare rooms of no interest. It was one room the child spent time scratching around, placing marks all over the lower walls – odd symbols with curves and squiggly lines, a figure of some four legged animal.

“W̵h̴a̷t̶ ̸ D̸i̵d̷ ̶ Y̴o̶u̸ ̷ E̴v̶e̸r̵ ̸ H̴o̷p̷e̷ ̸ T̵o̸ ̵ G̷a̵i̵n̸?̶” The boy did not offer anything, except dig more into his collar. “Nothing to offer to O̶u̸r̸  ̵C̷o̶n̸v̷e̶r̸s̷a̵t̷i̵o̴n̷?̸” Another burbled murmur spurred from the boy. How very enlightening.

He could not help the chuckle. “What was that?” He recoiled when the face reared up at him yelping.

“Not small.”

“O̶h̴  ̸N̵o̶?” The chortle vibrated from him without, prompting another dour glare from the child. “You are.”

“No.”

“You cannot argue with fact.” He was not necessarily being mean, but he had to give the scruffy hair a brush with his finger. “Someday though. That A̷l̶l̸ ̷C̷h̷a̴n̸g̸e̶.̵” The angry scowl on the child melted into one of… he could not say curiosity. It certainly was not concern.

He arched his brow. “What is that face you make?” The boy pressed his check against his shirt and gazed at him. And blinked.

“Sad.”

Not this again. “And why D̶o̸ ̵ Y̸o̸u̷  ̴B̴e̷l̸i̸e̷v̶e̵ I am sad?”

The boy shrugged against his palm. “Have story.”

Ah yes, the story. The unfortunate truth of his fate as the fallen ‘hero’. Though the idea of hero was far detached from the boy’s understanding, there were no villains or saviors in his sordid tale. There was only he and Her, against the terrors that inhabited the world. The children were no more heroes than a crab overcoming a leech. Heros and fallen saviors existed nowhere, survival was the only payoff from vanquishing the latest foe.

“What of T̸h̵i̷s̵ ̷S̶t̸o̷r̸y̵?”

A long and deep breath filled the little body tucked under his hand. The child slipped his gaze down, stared at something beyond the Thin Man’s line of sight, before turning his strange stare back up to him. “Speek make y’child? Hmm?”

Speek. You child. Question.

“Yes. O̴n̸c̵e̶. What of it?”

The boy kept those eyes fixed on him, unwavering. Strange child. Cursed boy. Always hiding his face under hats and masks. He was not hiding now.

“Smol?”

“H̴m̵m̸?̷”

The boy scrunched up his face, probably untying more convoluted inquiries from the depths of his scratchy thoughts.

“R’smol. You n’child?”

He sighed and lifted a finger to sweep the matted hair out of the boy’s eyes. “Y̴e̶s̵.̷ All children are small.” That frustratingly slow blinking persisted.

“Smol.”

What was the boy not getting?

“Yuh?”

It was his turn to reciprocate the slow blinking. “O̶n̶e̶ ̵ T̸i̶m̴e̸.̵ A long -  ̸L̶o̸n̶g̵ time ago.”

Long-long ago. In an era that had since died and reverted to dust. The boy fell and was forgotten, left by the one he cherished. Oh how he mourned the lost friendship, the companionship, the cohabitation with someone that was once his world.

“For happen?”

Ah.

The floor creaked as he shifted his weight. He realized he was swaying ever so slightly. The child’s eyes drooped, but he caught himself and forced alertness back into his stare. Only to have his eyelids dip down once more.

“S̶o̶  ̷M̷u̸c̷h̴.̵”

“Su’much.” The child hummed, and nestled down more into his jacket. “Sum….” A small wheeze and hack popped from the boy, but he smothered it easily enough. “Story.”

The Thin Man hummed for the child. “It is a P̶o̵i̵n̶t̷l̴e̸s̶s̵ story.”

“Poin’ess….”

“It means, it has N̸o̵ ̶ P̶l̴a̴c̷e̴ in this world.” Much like the existence of children. He brushed carefully over the boy’s back and continued humming a melody. It had no rhythm, the tune was flat, but the child’s eyes fluttered shut.

The search for the mysterious irritate was long forgotten. If the child had another violent fit later, he might have an apt opportunity of discovering the source. For now, he meandered into one of the rooms that had nothing but a table with some chairs. No books or pages, or the other odds and ends that enabled him to constantly scribble through the pages of endless nothing to offer erudition or redemption to the husk of a world. Just a dusty table with a tattered table runner. It fancied him to take his place at one chair and lean back by a margin, only to set his heels on the tabletop.

For whatever reason he was still humming off key, to no one in particular. It was dangerous to… he was no longer a child. No more, than the boy cupped in his hands was he.

“Was child,” mumbled the voice. Some time later when he made no acknowledgment, the child shifted under his hand. “Have friend?”

“H̵u̸h̶?̷” The boy nudged his finger with his forehead, but he resisted the urge to glance down. He was not strong enough to meet those eyes so like his own.

“Y’child.” The wriggly thing was easy enough to control, though the squirming did not cease. “Am Mono r’friend. Y’child? When smol.”

“N̸o̸.̴ Never.” That was the blunt response. The only correct reply. “It W̷o̸u̷l̶d̶  ̵N̷o̵t̷ have  ̵W̸o̷r̸k̶e̶d̴ out.”

“Yu'lie.”

“Do not be D̶e̸l̶u̴s̴i̵o̵n̷a̴l̴.̴”

No wonder why S̷h̶e̶ dropped him. Who in this Tower forsaken city could ever tolerate this spiteful splinter.

“What’s y’like?” muttered the voice. “N’child? What y’done?”

Fool child.

“Smol,” he replied, to the boy. “W̴e̴.̶.̴.̸ I was….” The words and stories all slipped away, or never existed in the first place. The boy never existed. It was all a lie. His dreams, the adventure, his friendship with H̴e̷r̶.̷.

“I went on many adventures. I saw such terrible things.” The Thin Man brushed his fingers over the child’s back, trying to recall how the coat felt so heavy on his shoulders. How mighty and fierce he felt with its snapping around his ankles, how it protected him from the sharp flint strikes of rain.

“Trick?” came the muffled voice under his palm.

“Mm. Many tricks. Many.” He tussled the child’s hair. “At times I was very frightened, and did not know if I would wake up. But I was resolute in my mission.”

“Mish-shun.”

“A very important task you undertake.” The Thin Man could feel those eyes burning into him. He zoned out on the warped, tattered ceiling where plaster and wood hung downward. The upper floors ceiling was visible through the gloom, and somewhere a bulb bristled its waning shimmer.

“Am Mono s’mish’un?”

That caused him to falter and turn his gaze down to meet the boy’s. “You?” He was on the verge of laughter, but the eyes were so imploring and uncertain. “Yes,” he choked, on reflex. “You are a very important mission.”

The child turned his head the other way, and pressed is cheek against his jacket. “Have friend. Am Mono keep’yu. Mm?”

The Thin Man worked through his ancient memories, of what togetherness meant when he was a child, with nothing but a soft hand in his own. The world against them him, the dangers endless. Scavenging beside a second pair of eyes, the rasped speek beneath the creak of walls, the chatter of rain. What was a friend, but another threat to bypass. She must have felt the same sentiment. Why else would she condemn him? He would never know. He didn’t care to know.

“I think you would have been a good friend for me,” his voice snagged, and stammered. “I don’t know for how long, but I would have cherished… it would have meant the city to me.” The child hummed against his palm.

“Am prot’ck. Am Mono does. Y’safe.”

“Sure.” The Thin Man reached up with his free hand, and tugged his hat down to shelter his eyes. “Now hush it and recuperate your strength. That was a nasty fit.”

Mono grumbled, but tucked up into his coat. “Not hurt.”

“Shh.” No nonsense argument here. “For a short spell, stay still and rest your head.” And no refute came from the boy. Just a steady finger, tracing the creases in his hand.

“Make story?” came the messy grumble. “Y’am’um Mono? How story?”

It took a dreadful long moment before the Thin Man put together the soft twitter, but when it struck him, the world felt dark and strange. He shut his eyes and tried to recall a long era lost in the miasma of is confinement to the Tower. How long did the roads stretch? Where in the skyline did towering buildings fade? Did they hold up the sky? What hazards lurked in the musty black corridors?

“Two L̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̸ ̶ B̵o̷y̶s̴,” another sputtering scratch tattered his words. “They crept through a murky room, listening to the creatures pawing at—”

“Was speek? Am Mono. Him?”

The Thin Man paused to regard the question. “One was Mono. We do not remember the other boys name. It was not important.” The child snorted.

“S’portant. Have call. What speek?”

The Thin Man brushed back his hat and glared down at the child, who matched the smoldering frown with one of his own. “Let me continue. Maybe he will remember his name.” For now, that satisfied the child. He turned his face away and shifted around into a more comfortable heap. Or perhaps he was soured by the Thin Man’s disregard for the important, unnamed child.

Regardless, the Thin Man resumed. Softly, he spoke, “They came from a vehicle on a railway track. The unsteady vessel crashed into a wall and splint in two – one of them was pinned. But without losing the other, and risking great harm when a fire spread through the wreckage, they found their way out of the tunnel. This happening made them realize how much they needed the other, and how important together was.”

“Mm. For impor’ant.”

“O̶f̷ ̷C̸o̴u̵r̵s̷e̵.̷” He traced a finger along Mono’s back, working the knotted kinks from the child’s spine. As Mono relaxed further against his jacket, he went on about the grand adventures that the two children shared. The dangers they overcame, and how they learned so much about being more than just travel companions.

It was not quite the togetherness he thought was the most important link he shared with Her. It was bigger than company, impossible to convey in the span of cohabitation. When he thought about these illusions with the boy, it made a sensation so warm and painful swell inside his chest. As if he might have the gall to risk banishment to the Tower ten times over, to certify this child never saw a single solitary chair locked behind a door.

“From then on, they always had each other,” he finished.

Mono had fallen into silent rest forever ago, but it felt critical to his shaken thoughts to reach the end of this journey with that little boy.

Next

[minty-bunni]

The craziest thing about PTSD is thinking you're free from it and then getting triggered like 5 mins later by the most random thing.

[v-anrouge]

OK YALL VERY SERIOUS TOPIC ABOUT A PERSON CALLED YAKO OF ANY OF YALL FOLLOW HER ID REALLY RECOMMEND Y'ALL READ THIS AND IF U STILL SUPPORT HER AFTER BLOCK ME<3

yako used to be in a server with me and a bunch of other ppl, i don't know much about yako because by the time i joined i never got to interact with them and they were banned right after for a few reasons.

To start of small yako copied multiple of the owner's work which greatly bothered kimiko but apparently nothing was done abt it

(if yall know any of the ppl in this screenshots do not mention them or anything they have nothing to do w the drama leave them out of it i am no longer in the server)

now onto the heavier stuff under the cut

TW DEATH THREAT, MENTIONS OF HARMING CHILDREN

one day yako was on vc w a lot of the members and threatened my friend's children for absolutely NO REASON, and they only apologized like 3 or 4 hours after when people called the owner and yako was scared she was gonna be kicked out (which she was) and the apology was absolute shit too

she said it on vc so there's not many ways to prove her words but we do have screenshots first see the context (if u know who the victim is do not mention their name please they asked to be kept anonymous because they're afraid they'll get hate)

here's some screenshots of the ppl trying to get yako to shut the fuck up while it was happening

when this shit was happening yako still kept making jokes until finally everyone leaved and everyone was feeling uncomfortable because of this shit and this the "apology" yako sent to the victim after being threatned to be kicked out

this apology ia not only a terrible apology but she clearly didn't fucking mean it because she only thought abt making it HOURS after and when she knew she'd be kicked out plus u dont threaten someone's children and think a shit ass apology will cut it like what the fuck and the fact she blocked the victim right after too???

the victim has been keeping quiet about it this while time because yako is famous in this fandom but honestly we're all sick of it yako deserves to be held accountable and y'all deserve to know rhe type of person she truly is.

To all my moots that are friends with her; I'm truly sorry yall have to see this so suddenly i know it must be very hard to see this but it's the truth and if any of yall side with her you WILL be blocked immediately, this behavior has no excuse those are children and that was clearly not a joke and even if it was yako kept going even after discovering the victim had real children, if any of yall still support yako after this please block me you're disgusting.

[bluebeetle]

revealing that the nashville shooter is supposedly transgender, without revealing what gender they id as or any other information other than that, being a former student, and a name... absolutely evil, because it allows people to construct their own narratives and this is going to mean so many awful people blaming the entire trans community (and assuming the shooter is a trans woman bc transmisogyny)

(edit: i wrote this rly early in the morning when reading the news, see tags and notes for more thoughts ig cuz im making this unrebloggable bc transphobes r annoying)

[the-lady-maddy]

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[djsherriff-responses]

I think I got a rough timeline for Dolph’s pregnancy stages in the Laserhen au, may come back to it later but I’d appreciate thoughts

massive trigger warnings for Mpreg, forced pregnancy, dubious consent, suicide attempt mention , abuse, pregnancy horror and implied harm of children

[kailali]

With your Forget Fic just imagine darling feeling ill a few weeks later. And Toge is the second to last one to connect the dots. Like it takes Maki or Panda asking if it is possible for her to be pregnant for him to go Oh! Shit! It is Possibly. And shes like no not possible. And he's just metaphorically chewing on his nails trying to figure out his next move.

Content & Trigger Warnings: noncon, pregnancy, mentions of harming a person/their pregnancy, allusion to abortion, allusion to miscarriage.

Oh. My. GOSH!

I love this!!! Everybody suspects - literally everybody, and imagine Maki and Nobara talking her into taking a test with them there for support - "just in case" - so there's no way for Toge to interfere before they all know she really is pregnant, even though she swears it's not possible.

Sure, he could try to interfere after, to make it all go away and seem like an accident, or something just naturally went wrong, but...

He can't help but love her even more, the way she's leaning on him more for support, the way she immediately changes all her habits, because, sure, she didn't ask for this, but until she decides how she's going to handle it, she's going to take extra good care of herself and the tiny life blossoming inside of her.

Toge knows that if she gives birth to the baby, there will be no way for him to hide what he's done - but could he really ever do anything to sabotage something that is half him, half her?

Nonny, you're seriously a genius! (I've been having the worst day but this made it so much brighter!)

Would you mind if I used your idea to possibly continue Forget?