#tw physical assault

[usedtobecooler]

trauma dumping ig

i was physically assaulted in an unprovoked attack by a man i do not know over the weekend. i was punched violently and knocked to the ground, where i hit my head on concrete and was knocked unconscious for approximately five minutes.

i’m very lucky that after multiple tests and an overnight stay in hospital, i have no more than a major concussion and a slight glue to a split in my scalp. now that i’m no longer in a state of drowsiness and tiredness and the pain has seeped into my bones, i’m struggling in the aftermath of the assault.

i’m bruised from my head right down to the base of my ribs, lumps in my shoulder and collarbone. my hair is matted with blood at the back of my skull as i’m still too scared to brave the shower. everything hurts and no amount of painkillers are easing the pain.

if i’d of been hit any harder, or had hit the ground differently, the outcome could’ve been different. my children could’ve been left without a mother, my husband a widow. all because of a man who had been aggravated elsewhere and took it out on a complete stranger.

i can’t comprehend what happened to me and why. i’m very lucky that the emergency services were by my side, and that two police officers of all people, are the reason i was brought to safety.

i don’t know why i’m telling you all this. i think i just needed to get it off of my chest. my heart is heavy and i’m now terrified to go back to where it happened. i have never been the victim of something like this before, and i’m struggling to navigate where i go from here.

if anybody takes anything from my story, it’s to please be vigilant and aware of your surroundings at all times. i was in a place i’ve felt safe in for years and had my guard down, and now i’m petrified of somewhere i could always go to comfortably.

look after yourselves and each other throughout the holiday season. sending love to you all. 🖤

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 15: Visitors

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

cw: minor descriptions of violence/physicall assault

Present Day, March 1987

“When are you going to move in,” Sarah asks over the phone.

“Next week, I think. I should get the keys in a few days and then we’ll take some time to get some basic furniture. Then we should be all good.”

Steve was excited for the move. Excited to get out of this house to something he owns. Something he can make his own. A place where he can walk through the door and see himself on the walls. In the furniture. Where it feels like home.

Not just a large house where most of the lights are never on. Suffocating anyone who lives in it.

It’ll be an adjustment. But he’s willing to do it. Ready to do it. He’s been stuck in the same loop for so long, he ready to break it.

“Any word from your parents?”

Steve still feels bad about that. If things went the way he wanted them to, Julie would never have to endure his parents. Over the phone or in person. Knowing her, she’d probably want to sit behind him in court. She’d see them there. But wouldn’t be dealing with him. That’s his job, not hers. Not anyone’s.

He’s been dealing with his parents for his entire life. He’s used to it. Knows how to shut up and say the right things just so the issue is dropped. Most of the time. Sometimes he fights back. Stands up for himself. Just to get knocked back down to the lowest peg possible. But he tries.

Now, it’s a totally different ballgame. They can’t knock him down again, not really. He’s stronger than he was back then. Older. More mature. Has a sense of his own self worth and how it doesn’t revolve around their opinions. They never cared enough to stay, why should he care about their words.

“Uh yeah. They got the papers, last I heard from the courthouse is that they got the response letter. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well, that was to be expected. Anything else?”

Steve hesitates. “Yeah, um. I sort of got kicked out.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my dad said he wanted me gone. That if I thought I was going to get anything from them anymore I was wrong and can’t keep living here rent free. But they haven’t, like, sent a cop or anything to make sure I’m gone. So, it’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“That’s only because you have an in with the Chief, Steve,” Sarah says sternly. He can picture the frustration on her face. “When did they tell you this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Sarah swears under her breath. “You’re cutting it close here, Steve.”

“I know,” he says before she can continue. “I know I am. But we’re so close to getting out. Most of our stuff is out of the house except for essentials, and I have people on standby incase they come home. I’m not going into this blind. I know how they are.”

“The minute they show up, the minute that this backup plan gets put into place, you call me immediately.”

Steve knows that Sarah’s just planning for the worst possible outcome. That it’s better to plan for things that might never happen than to scramble for a solution. He doesn’t want to think of the worst. Deep down, there’s a strong feeling that it’s actually going to happen.

Because he does know them. He knows how they will want to fight. They don’t want to do it at all. Threats have gotten them out of trouble before, it shouldn’t be any different now. Only Steve wasn’t giving up. Giving in. He separated himself from them enough that their words don’t mean shit anymore.

At least that’s how he’ll act. In court, he’ll tell the judge the truth, not caring what their going to say as a rebuttal. The way they’ll tear him down as much as they can. It won’t affect him then, but Steve has no way of knowing how it will affect him behind closed doors.

Despite everything, someone deep inside him craves for their approval. Their attention. That person has been getting satisfaction knowing that he’s getting it somehow. The same person that threw large parties just to get the cops called. Just to see if they would show up again. Give him a phone call. Steve wants to ignore that part of him, but it’s there.

That same part of him will probably cry when this is all over. Knowing that his parents are done with him forever. That they think the worst of him. Their opinion shouldn’t matter. It still does sometimes.

“I promise I will,” Steve assures.

“Good.” Sarah hangs up without another word.

Steve’s relationship with his parents has always been complicated. He knew that. Everyone knew that. There was a small hope that if he just acted right, did all the right things, the relationship would become less complicated. Less strained. He’d be their son the way other sons were. Not just a trophy to sit on a shelf, but something more. It never became that, no matter how hard he tried.

So he stopped trying, and look where he is now.

. . .

Julie was putting her plate in the sink when a car pulled into the driveway. Steve’s head turned to the door, wondering who it is. He never does that. People come and go here all the time, normally Eddie since he has a car. Robin if she gets him to pick her up on the way.

But Steve never turns his head when it’s them. Like he has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to random people showing up at his door. Always knowing who it is before he sees them. This is different.

Still, Julie doesn’t pay much thought on it. It’s probably just one of them. Or maybe one of the kids had their parents drive them over. It’s nothing.

Until they hear the garage door start to open. No one ever uses the garage.

Steve’s body tightens. Standing straighter that he normally does.  He abandons his dish in the sink, walking toward the door leading to the garage. On attention. Waiting for something to pounce.

She’s never seen him like this before.

When he returns to the kitchen, there’s a frightened look in his eye. One that immediately makers her heart start to pound faster. It can’t be that bad. What can scare him into looking like this? Spine tied up with a string. Stance ready to start running. Afraid. He’s so afraid.

His mouth opens to say something as a car door slams. A rage filled voice traveling across the house. Enough that she can place who’s it is, even after only hearing it once. Steve’s fear matches in her eyes.

“Steve, who’s here?” Her voice waivers.

Without saying a word, Steve gently grabs her arm and brings her to the sliding door. “You can’t be here right now. They can’t know you’re here.”

“Steve,” she asks again.

He slides the door open, the evening air making her shiver. “The Byers house isn’t that far through the woods. You remember going there for Christmas Eve, right? Go straight about thirty feet, then make a right and keep walking.”

“Steve.”

The door starts to open, and the voices fill the other room. Steve’s eyes dart towards the sound before landing back on her. Only making her more scared.

“I’ll be there within an hour with the rest of our stuff. But it will be worse if they see you’re here. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“Steve,” she pleads for him to slow down.

“You got it. Go to the loose fence behind the pool house and then walk straight a little bit. Then make a right and keep going. You’ll see their house after a while. Take this.” He reaches for the walkie on the kitchen table. Messing with the dial. “When you get to the woods, call for a code red. It won’t go to everyone, just to them. I’ll be there when I can.”

Before Julie can say anything else, Steve pushes her out the door and shuts it behind her. Sliding the lock into place.

Heavy breaths fill her lungs, burning slightly with the chilled air. She looks at Steve though the glass. Face frantically asking for an explanation. Trying to convince her the one she has is wrong. They can’t be here right now.

“Go, please,” Steve mouths through the glass. Terrified.

Julie turns. Walking to the pool house. Finding the loose panels of the fence and pulls them to the side. The same way she would do when she would sneak into this backyard. When she lived in that other house and would do anything not to be there.

Steve’s instructions replay in her mind. Walk straight for a bit, about thirty feet. Maybe more. The turn right and keep walking until you see the house. Call for a code red. Julie looks at the walkie in her hand before she presses the button. Seeing how her hand in shaking.

“Copy,” a man’s voice comes through the speaker. Julie unable to place it right now. “I’ll wait outside for you. If you don’t see the porch light, look for the flashlight. Call again if you get lost.”

Julie turns to the house again. The light click on in Steve’s room. He shouldn’t be much longer. There’s not much else to grab. He should be right after her.

She thinks about waiting. But she already called. They’ll get worried if she doesn’t show up.

Her mind can’t stop racing as she walks. Sun setting slowly as it becomes harder to see the ground. Squinting to make sure she doesn’t trip on a root or branch.

Did Steve’s parents really show up? Just unannounced. That part wasn’t as surprising when she thought about it. They seemed like the people to do that. Steve mentioned that they might come home. She didn’t believe it then. She barely believed it now.

He was right. They showed up at the worst possible time. Give it another week and they would have been out of there anyway. But no, they just had to show up today.

The rage of Steve’s father’s voice rings in her head. The threats on the phone call finding their way back to her mind. What would they do when they saw he was still there? He wanted the two of them gone, that didn’t happen. Not yet. It was happening, but something told Julie that wouldn’t matter. In their heads, Steve disobeyed them. Again.

. . .

Steve watches Julie round the pool house before he turns away. Knowing that she’s going to a safe place, that no matter what the Byers’ will take care of her. His safety, he’s not so sure about. Anger fills his dad fast, and it’s already bubbling over with the sight of the Beemer still sitting in the driveway. Or the fact that there’s lights on in the house.

He’s about to see his parents for the first time in two years. And he’s terrified.

Everything slows down like one of the horror movie scenes. Where the footsteps thump down the hall while the protagonist just stands and waits like an idiot. Waiting for it to strike. They don’t seem like such idiots anymore. Steve knows how feet can feel glued to the floor, but it has a whole new meaning now.

His back is straight, chest puffed out in a way that makes him look bigger than he is. Anything to make him more menacing than his father’s glare. Or fist. Or whatever is coming his way as his father finds his way to the kitchen.

For the first time in two years, Steve looks at his father’s face. Disgusted how much it looks like his. A constant reminder of where he comes from, no matter how hard he tries. Rage filled eyes meet Steve’s, waiting for him to make the first move. All he does is cross his arms, clench his jaw. Trap his father in a glare. He’s not speaking until he has to.

“Steven,” his mother breaks the silence. “We were not expecting you.”

She always tried to keep the peace between them. To try and keep in his father’s rage. It rarely worked. But she tried. It was the one thing Steve commended her for. Deep down, he felt bad for her. Trapped in an unhappy marriage having to follow after Richard just to make sure he didn’t cheat. But that still meant leaving him, and she didn’t call enough for him to forgive for that.

“No, we were not,” Richard finally speaks, voice tense. “What are you still doing here?” Considering you are no longer welcome in this house, that is.

His father can’t even speak his name. Steve debates walking past right up to his room. Filling the last tote bag before doing the same with the rest of Julie’s stuff. Walking out without an explanation. His father raises his eyebrow with a tilt to his head. Awaiting an explanation.

Instead, Steve decides to gloat. “I’m actually just waiting for the keys to my house. Didn’t want the neighbors to think you left your son to sleep in his car. That wouldn’t be so nice to the reputation, wouldn’t it, dad.” He continues to glare at his father, not backing down.

His father lets out a condescending laugh. “If you were so concerned about reputation, then we wouldn’t have to go to court. Would we, Steven? Instead, you think that you deserve some kind of justice. After all we’ve done for you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “What did you do for me exactly?”

“Put a roof over your head, make sure there was money to put food on the table. Give you a car, clothes, expensive gifts. See you through high school, pay for your sports equipment. Everything you have is because we gave it to you.” Richard’s voice raises, almost yelling. Almost.

Steve resists a flinch when the last word booms through the room. Instead of saying another word, he side-steps his parents, heading upstairs. Flicking on the light in his room, stuffing as much of his stuff into a tote bag. His room already looks bare except for the sheet and the stupid car poster on his wall.

His mother appears in his doorway moments later, a more silent argument ready to be said. Until she sees the walls. “You painted?” she gasped.

“I did. Hope you don’t mind. I won’t be here much longer anyway. You can turn it back into what it was.”

A sickened smile forms on his mother’s face. “You never told me you wanted to change your room. We could have done it together.”

Meaning that she could have changed it while he watched. Hating how it would have turned out no matter what the product was. His mother never listened to him anyway.

“Well, you were never here long enough to change it, so I just did it myself.” He smiles to himself when his mother’s smile twitches. Knowing that his words stung.

The tote bag gets slung over his shoulder as he pushes past her. Leaving her to look at her ruined masterpiece as he packs up Julie’s room. Pulling out the tote bag she has underneath her bed and putting away the few essentials that she had left. Taking out another to shove her clothes into.

His mother gasps as she sees the paint over these walls as well. This room in particular being her favorite guest room. “What have you done?”

“Painted. Like I said.” He continues to fill the second tote bag.

Richard finds his way up the stairs, done waiting for Steve. Eyes landing on the desk where the picture of Julie and her mother rests. Steve grabs it before he can, gently placing it in the tote bag. Throwing some clothes around it so it doesn’t break.

“Has someone been living in here?” his father asks, not willing to admit he recognized the woman in the picture.

Steve takes a deep breath. “Oh no one special. Just your daughter.”

His parents stiffen at the same time. Bringing a sly smile to Steve’s face.

“I don’t have a daughter,” his mother says with feigned confidence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him.” He meets his father’s eyes again. “I was talking about Julie.”

As fast the smile formed of Steve’s face, it’s smacked off. Cheek stinging with the contact of his father’s hand. His mother gasps, scolding her husband. Knowing nothing would stop him from doing it again. Steve grabs the desk chair, using it to balance him as he gets his bearings. Waits for the ringing in his ear to calm down, for the breath to return to his lungs.

“You are never to speak that name again,” Richard commands. “She is nothing.”

“Julie is not nothing.” Steve manages to stand, only to have to grip the chair again when Richard’s fist makes contact again. Lip darting out to taste the blood coming from his split lip. A short laugh escapes as he stands, planting his feet stronger this time. “You really thought I’d never figure out about her.”

“You think you are so tough, don’t you, Steven. Changing your room, getting a job, housing someone you don’t know. All of that you could do because of me. All of that you are going to lose. What will come of you when you don’t have us paying for everything anymore? When you can’t come crawling back to us when life gets hard.”

Steve manages to stand again. Plants his feet the way he’s learned to. Treating his father like every other monster he’s faced. Wishing that there was a bat in his hand to twirl around. Make a show of protecting himself.

He doesn’t need it this time. Richard might pretend to be strong and menacing, but he’s just a person. Who got a few good hits in because Steve wasn’t prepared for them. He is now.

“You would know something about housing someone you don’t know. You’ve been housing me for twenty years.”

Richard’s arm raises again, but Steve was ready for it this time. Catching his wrist before it can contact Steve’s face. It surprises the both of them, but Steve doesn’t let his guard down. His eyes dart to his mother, who hides just barely behind Richard. Laura was never one for confrontation, and now he’s something more than just her son. Now he’s a threat.

“I am more than what you think I am. I changed my room because I never liked the old one. Because I should feel welcome in my childhood home. I got the job because if my hard work, not because of my name. I gave Julie a home because she is my sister, that is a fact. And because her and I have something in common. Our father knows nothing about us.”

“Let go of me, Steven.” For the first time, Richard is the one with fear in his eyes.

“Are you going to hit me again?” Steve tightens his grip.

Richard shakes his head. “No, no I’m not. Don’t do anything rash here, Steven.”

Steve lets go of Richard’s wrist with a swing, letting it slam back into him. “I go by Steve, but you both always ignored that anyway. I’m not some kid you get to push around anymore, no matter how hard you’ll try. You might think I’m stupid for staying here after you told me to get out, you might think what I’m doing is pointless. But I’m not doing all of this for me anymore, I’m doing it for me and for Julie. Because while you thought she was just something you could pay to never think about again, you missed out on a pretty great kid.”

He takes a deep breath. “But I guess you’re used to that. You missed out on the kid you kept around. Even if you weren’t here to see me grow up. I hope it all was worth it. It was a lot of hell for me.”

Steve grabs the tote bags, slinging one over each shoulder and the other in his hand. Taking a moment to realize that this is the last time he’ll ever set foot in this house. It’ll no longer be his home. It should be sadder than it is. There were many good memories among the bad that happened here. But he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. It’s not over yet, but he’s free of one of his chains.

“You going to let me leave? Not like you want me here anyway.”

Neither of them moves. Not ready to admit they lost.

“Where are you going to go?” Laura asks like she cares. She might, but it was too little too late at this point.

“You don’t get to know that.”

Laura lowers her head in a nod, accepting. Steve pushes his way past them and down the stairs. Finding his keys.

Richard follows him down, not willing to give up. “Don’t think you can have the car, we paid for that. It’s ours.”

Steve laughs, undoing a keychain Robin made him from the ring. “I know, was just getting this off.” He tosses Richard the keys. “There you go. House key is on there too, so you won’t have to bother about me coming back.”

He grabs his flashlight from the hall closet before opening the door. Sparing one last look at his parents, to find anything that shows remorse. All he sees is Richard’s hard stare and Laura’s sorry eyes. Nothing calling him to stay.

So he leaves.

. . .

Julie was lucky she didn’t get lost. She followed the directions and, after a while, saw the porch light. The last bit of sunlight helps her get the rest of the way there. Illuminating the path just slightly so she doesn’t trip.

“Hey,” a voice says from beside her, making her jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Julie turns to see the Chief holding a flashlight, the light pointing towards her. “I think you would have even if I knew you were there.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cold out here.” Hopper steps in front of her, leading her the rest of the way.

Joyce is waiting for them in the house. Getting up from the couch when they open the door. “You’ve been out there for a while. I was getting worried. Oh honey, you’re shaking, are you cold?”

Julie looks down at her hands, seeing them shake. She doesn’t feel cold. More in shock than anything. Afraid of something she’s never really experienced. Only hearing his voice once over the phone. That was enough to spark fear. Not for her, but for Steve.

It was all she could think about when she was walking. What Steve was going to face when his parents saw that he wasn’t there. If they saw what they did to their rooms. If they saw her.

She agreed it was probably best that she wasn’t there. It would have probably made it all ten times worse. But leaving Steve alone in that house, with them. It felt like a bad idea.

He can take care of himself, she knew that. That didn’t stop her from feeling like she should be there. Be a barrier to stop them from hurting him. In whatever way they were going to. Maybe if there was a witness, he could leave without a fight.

“Julie, sweetie, are you ok?” Joyce’s warm voice breaks through her thoughts.

Julie tries to say something, but nothing comes out. It hits her all at once how scared she was for him.

“What time is it?” she asks.

Joyce checks the clock in the living room. “Just about seven thirty, why?”

Julie left a little after seven. So, assuming Steve left right after her, he should be here soon. And if he left a bit later, he should be here by eight. That’s if nothing went wrong. If they didn’t get into an argument. Or he didn’t get lost.

“He said he’d get here within the hour. So by eight. If nothing happened. Do you think something will happen?” Her voice can’t help but shake.

Joyce makes a face that is supposed to help but doesn’t. Full of sympathy, but one of no answers. “I’m not sure. But whatever it is, he’ll be fine. I know he will.”

“And if he isn’t?” Julie keeps seeing the small person that Steve becomes when he talks to his father. How the light drains out of him, and he becomes a shell of the person he is. His father isn’t even in person and can do that. What will happen when he is in person?

“He will be,” Joyce assures. “How about you come in, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water, hot chocolate?”

Julie lets herself be led to the living room. “Water would be nice.”

“Alright. El here if you want to see her, have someone to sit with.”

“Yeah, yes. I would like that.”

Joyce smiles at her. “Ok, I’ll go get her for you. Jim.” She nods her head toward the kitchen before heading down the hall.

Hopper brings her a glass of water, which she takes. Taking a sip before setting it on the table, seeing how her hands still shake. Joyce comes back down the hall motioning for Hopper to join her in the kitchen. Leaving Julie alone in the living room. Until El comes to sit next to her.

“Joyce told me about what happened,” she says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He used to hit my mom,” Julie blurts out. “He used to hit my mom when they were together, and she made him angry. Steve made him angry. I know he did. He called the house last week and, and kicked us out. And we didn’t leave yet, because we couldn’t. Steve doesn’t get the keys for a few more days. What if he hits Steve, too?”

El’s hands find hers, holding them together to calm the shaking. Julie turns her head to meet El’s eyes. Seeing an expression that feigns strength but fear still rests in her eyes. She’s scared for Steve too.

“I have known Steve for longer that you have. I know how strong he is, how brave he is. He will be ok. I promise.” There’s a certainty in her words.

Somehow, Julie believes her. “Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah. He’ll be ok.”

“Would you like a hug?”

Julie nods. Her breath starting to even out again, the adrenaline keeping her tears at bay failing.

El opens her arms and leans forward to give Julie a hug. Julie takes it with a choked sob, tears starting to fall. El pats her back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do but it’s helping. With a few deep breaths, Julie’s able to pull herself together. Pulling away from El to wipe the tears from her eyes. She won’t be ok until Steve shows up, but she’s better. For now.

“Thanks, that helped.”

El smiles. “Good. Do you want to watch something while we wait? Keep your mind off of it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

El clicks on the tv, finding a channel with some reruns that Julie doesn’t pay attention to. Her mind is still on Steve. Knowing that the there’s no sunlight left to guide the way, and he has no walkie to let her know when she’s coming. Yet she still grips the one resting in her lap. Hoping by some miracle she hears Steve’s voice through the staticky connection and knows he’s ok.

But nothing comes through. The only noise filling the house is the tv, and the not so silent whispering between Joyce and the Chief in the kitchen. After a while, Hopper heads back outside with the flashlight, walkie stuffed in his jacket pocket. He’s going to look for Steve.

It feels like forever before there’s a knock at the door. Making Julie sit up straighter. Joyce emerges from the kitchen to open it. A very winded Steve behind the door, tote bags slung over his shoulder and flashlight in hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes while catching his breath. “I had to go the long way.”

Joyce ushers him in. Steve barely gets a chance to put the bags down before Julie’s on her feet and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re ok.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Did you get here ok, I know I kind of freaked you out.”

Julie lets go. “Freaked me out. Steve, you terrified the shit out of me. After the phone call last week and the little I knew about him I,” she pauses when she sees his split lip. “He hit you?”

Steve touches his lip. “Yeah, he, uh, he did. But I’m ok. I’ve had far worse than this.”

“You say that like it makes it ok. It doesn’t.”

He looks down with a shake of his head. “I know it doesn’t.”

“He really hit you because you didn’t leave.” Julie can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea. But then, she would never hit someone for any reason. Let alone that.

Steve clears his throat. “Sort of. Why don’t you go sit with El for a bit, I have to talk to Joyce for a second.”

She gives him a confused look, knowing he didn’t answer her question fully. But she still goes to sit on the couch again. Him and Joyce go to the kitchen, speaking in whispers. Something tells her that reason he was attacked was because of her.

. . .

Joyce uses her walkie to let Hopper know that Steve is at the house. She gets him a glass of water and makes him sit down, looking at his lip.

“It’s really not that bad. You and I both know this is the least beat up I’ve ever been after a fight.”

She sits down in the chair across from him. “You should listen to Julie. That still doesn’t make it ok.”

He looks down at his hands. “I know. Just easier to think of it that way. Out of all the things he’s done, he’s never hit me before.”

Hopper comes into the kitchen, sitting down next to Joyce. “You ok, kid?”

Steve shakes his head. “I will be, just need a second. Thanks for making sure she got here. Making sure she was safe. I didn’t know what would happen if he saw her there. Just knowing that she was there at all was the reason why,” he can’t finish the sentence.

“Of course. You both can stay here as long as you need to,” Joyce offers.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hopper crosses his arms. “You could press charges if you wanted, make your case a little stronger.”

“It’s my word against his, and my mom will never speak out against him.” She never did before, why would it change now. “Can I use your phone, I need to make some calls.”

Joyce nods and Steve heads to the phone in the hall. Pulling out Sarah’s number from his pocket. Dialing it with a deep breath. She wouldn’t be happy with this.

She wasn’t. Cursing Steve through the phone with an “I told you so”. But grateful that Julie is safe, grateful that he is too. She gives him a day before she’ll say anything. Give him time to make it look like Julie was just at an extended sleepover. For them to move. He thanks her just before she hangs up.

Robin is next. Takes a second to make sure he’s ok before cursing out his dad. Offering to go over there herself and give him a piece of her mind. He tells her it’s a bad idea, she disagrees, but still says she will keep it all for when she sees him in court. That way there will be witnesses. She makes sure he’s ok, offers to come over. Steve assures that he’s fine and will talk to her again in the morning.

The last person is Eddie. Steve already knows how he’ll react, but still hopes he won’t freak out that much.

“Where are you right now?” he asks after Steve fills him in.

“The Byers. It was the closest place that was safe.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Steve holds the phone closer to his mouth. “Eds, really. You don’t have to come over.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Eddie hangs up before Steve can protest anymore.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to see Eddie right now. That if knowing that his boyfriend was willing to drop everything just to be there with him right now didn’t bring him comfort. Part of him didn’t want Eddie to see him like this, though. Fragile, partially homeless. Taken a few hits to the face.

As if Eddie hasn’t seen Steve beat up before. Pretty much all of Hawkins has, it’s a reoccurring event. But those times were different. It was because of his own idiocy or protecting someone. This was at the hands of someone that already caused him more pain than he should have gone through. He didn’t know how to admit that he got hit for no reason.

He heads back to the kitchen, tells them that Eddie’s coming over. They don’t say much, but have a knowing look in their eye. One that scares the hell out of him, but makes him feel seen at the same time. Steve could be himself in this house. Around these people. It wasn’t even his, and it felt more like home than he’s ever known.

“I never asked if you were ok,” Steve says as he sits down next to Julie. “Are you?”

Julie shrugs. “As ok as I can be I guess.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Did he hit you because of me?” Julie asks after a pause.

Steve would do anything to lie to her right now. To dart around the question and make up some excuse. Knowing her, she would see right through it. She didn’t need him lying to add to tonight. But would it be better for her to know the truth?

There’s a knock at the door before Steve can try to answer. He thinks it’s for the best. Enough has happened for one night.

He stands when Joyce opens the door. Almost getting pushed out of the way when Eddie sees Steve in the living room. They meet in a hug, Steve feeling more relieved that he thought he would.

“Those jackasses couldn’t have waited a few more days before they finally came home. They had to do it while you were still there.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah well, they never had the best timing.”

Eddie notices the cut on his lip when he pulls back from the hug. Eyes filling with anger. “I’m actually going to get arrested for murder this time.”

“Eds, it’s really not that bad.”

“Not that bad.” Eddie’s voice raises. “Not that bad, Steve. You have a fucking split lip. Your eye is puffy.”

Steve tries to calm Eddie down, still conscious of the people around them. Trying not to make it look too revealing. “It could be worse.”

He sees Joyce say something to the girls that gets them to leave and head down the hall. Leaving him and Eddie alone in the living room.

“How hard did he hit you? Can you hear me alright? What about your vision, nothing’s blurry. You can still see fine?” Eddie clocks when they leave, grabbing Steve’s head with both his hands, assessing the damage.

Steve tries to pull Eddie’s hands away, make this less of a big deal. “I can hear and see fine. He didn’t hit me hard enough to do anything. I’ve had worse, it’s the least concerning thing that’s happened in the last few hours.”

“Your father, a grown man, assaulted you. His son. And you think there are more concerning things that happened in the last few hours.” Eddie’s face falls. “Just because you’re an adult when he hit you doesn’t make it better.”

“I know that,” he admits. Starting to feel the weight of everything finally sink in. “I just don’t know how to process it all right now. Tonight’s been a lot and I just need a minute, a day, I don’t know. Something. I just can’t think about that right now.”

“Ok,” Eddie says softly. “Ok. Then we won’t talk about it anymore. When every you’re ready. Does it hurt though, do you need ice or anything? Last thing, I promise.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no. It’s ok. I’m ok right now.”

Eddie nods. Kissing Steve before pulling him into another hug.

Just when Steve gets his life together, it all falls apart again. Or at least feels like it. In just a few days, the pieces will be put back into place. His life will get back on schedule. His schedule. Where he can move into a house that he bought, with his own money. To a job that he got, by himself. And life that has nothing to do with his last name.

Even if the court date is a few months away, and he’ll have to see his parents again. But after that, he’ll never have to interact with them again. He will be permanently free.

Right now. He’s trying to hold it all together. Making his brain slow down to give himself a minute to breath. Before the crushing reality of all that just happened presses down on his chest. And they’ll take hold of his mind again. Just for a little while, then he’ll break free again.

Joyce insists they stay the night. Explaining how Julie is already set up in El’s room, and how the two of them can take the pull-out couch. Just like that, with no explanation needed. Or excuses. Maybe Steve could tell everyone about them soon.

It’s still early when everyone goes to bed. Just wanting the day to be over, even if they’re not tired. But the comfort of darkness lets Eddie scoot closer, hold Steve a little tighter. Make him feel put together even though he’s slowly starting to fall apart.

Tomorrow is a new day. With plenty of problems to be solved and conversations to be had. Telling the rest of the group to stay clear of his old house and change his contact information with a few people. Try to get the keys a few days earlier.

Tonight is meant for sleep. To float around and exist without anything pressing his mind. Wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms and feel comfort for a brief moment. Until his looks in the mirror again and see the healing cut on his lip, and the slight bruise on his cheek. Almost fall apart all over again until he pulls himself back together. Each time a little weaker than the last until he finally breaks.

It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. To bottle everything up for the sake of other. For the sake of himself. Steve really can’t process everything right now. It would sting more that it already does. So, it gets pushed away. Until he’s ready to face it again.

He only hopes that time will be sooner than most. So he doesn’t blow up at someone that’s undeserving. Saying something he can’t take back.

But right now, he doesn’t need to think about that. Right now he needs to sleep.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

[inkblot22]

Spirit Crusher: Riddle

Okay, forgive me but I just wanted to write some good old gory death junk. This is heavily inspired by this post. This user has since changed blogs, please go follow them @lacrimariums (If you want me to untag you, please let me know.) That being said, please pay attention to the trigger list, which will be larger than usual, because this one is not a light post at all.

TW for reader death, murder, physical abuse, verbal abuse, captivity, confinement, descriptions of pain, descriptions of violence, descriptions of gore, abusive relationship dynamics, yandere, misuse of unique magic, enabling behavior if you squint. DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

Like any other day, you wait. Riddle is fond of your patience, fonder still of your eyes lighting up once you see him. 

You've only seen him and fleeting glimpses of Trey since… Since the two of you began your courtship. You smile at the ghosts of your memories, the vague image of you and Riddle in the rose garden, in the maze, having tea.

Riddle smacking you upside the head with his canestaff in a fit of rage.

You shut your eyes and turn to look at the door as he enters. Your smile returns and you stand up, crossing the room to greet him.

"Good afternoon, housewarden."

"Yes, hello, beloved. I trust you've done what I asked of you?"

It was simple chores, organizing his closet by color and function, things such as that, so you nodded, "Of course I did. Um… Riddle-"

"You should run us a bath." He doesn't do that often, cutting into your words like that.

You nodded and tried again, "Yes, sir. But, Riddle, do you think we can go out to the garden later? I'm going crazy, cooped up in here."

His eyes narrowed on you for a moment, but he turned away, looking into his closet to inspect your organization. "Why are you still standing there? Go do what I told you to."

You swallowed and ducked your head, walking into the bathroom and turning on the water. You watch until it reaches the small scratch you discreetly placed there to measure how high the water can be before Riddle gets irritated.

The one and only time you got it wrong, he made you scrub the bathroom, ceiling to floor, with a soft-bristled toothbrush, all while wearing one of those magic collars. You felt so weak afterwards, as though it were sapping your body of life…

You turned off the water, stepping towards the doorway of the bathroom, "Riddle? What bath salts do you want today?"

Riddle was seated at his desk, looking over his assignments. He waved an uncaring hand at you, "You can choose this time."

That's never a good sign. Riddle does not enjoy your autonomy. You took a stumbling step backwards and he flicked his eyes towards you, then turned back to his work. 

The bath salts and bombs and flakes were organized by date acquired, appropriate usage, and quantity. You loved the smell of the bright red, cherry sized bath bombs, since it reminded you of going to the garden, so you picked up two of them and turned, fingertips peeling uselessly at the plastic.

"No, not those. It's a Tuesday." Riddle's voice was cold.

"I-is it?" He had that irritated look in his eyes. That wasn't a good sign. "I'm sorry, I entirely forgot. It reminds me of the garden, so-"

"You need to release this silly garden nonsense. We are not going out today."

"Please, Riddle, I haven't seen the rosebushes in so long, and I'm going insane in here."

You could see the flush of anger, starting in his cheeks and spreading outwards, "Are you implying that my company is not enough?"

This is how it always started. Your fingers shook and you fumbled one of the bath bombs, "N-not at all! I… I just wanted to spend time with y-you outside."

His eyes shut, then opened to pin you with a glare.

You dropped the other bath bomb, lips opening and closing before you tried again, "I… I've been very good. You said it yourself, this morning, that I'm doing a good job. And I never… Never ask for anything, really, so-"

You only heard the whistle of the wind between the fingers of his gloved hand before you were sprawled out. Riddle was not a large person, not in the least, but you weren't expecting him to hit you just yet. You clutched your cheek and looked up at him.

"I didn't know you were so arrogant. Just because I compliment your performance does not mean you are entitled to privileges. I will not allow this… This insubordination! I refuse to allow you to continue speaking to me as though we are equals!"

His face burned crimson, a prominent vein in his forehead standing out. You scooted backwards on the bathroom tile.

Riddle knelt, getting in your face, "I deigned to raise you up to my level, and yet you continue to break rules and-"

"I don't even know half of the rules!" You shouted, "I'm just trying to make you happy!"

Riddle jerked back as though you had struck him, then stood, hands clutching at his canestaff until he pointed at you and screamed the last words you wanted to hear him say today.

"Off with your head!" 

It always felt suffocating. Like you were trapped underwater with a felled powerline and covered in acupuncture that you did while drunk at 3am. You wailed, shock and pain turning to fury. You do not necessarily have an eager temper like Riddle does. You do get angry when it makes sense.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Your shout has a snarling edge to it, and Riddle looks taken aback.

“I figured you were smarter than that. Have I really chosen such an incompetent partner?”

“Fuck you! I didn’t even want to be your partner at first!”

You hear the sharp intake of breath, see the way he stiffens, and you see his grip tighten on his canestaff. Then it comes down on your head. You’re already down, so it just makes you try to protect where he hit you, right in the soft spot on your temple. Riddle has struck you with his canestaff before. He has always stopped as soon as he breaks or bruises skin, but this time he doesn’t stop.

Over and over, the canestaff cracks into your skull and fingers until you’re in too much pain to keep your hands over your head and in too much pain to stay fully conscious.

“How dare you?!” He screams at you, raising it once more, “I love you!”

You slip in your own blood while trying to get up and do not try again. When you speak, it sounds like you’ve just been unearthed, like your corpse is bloated and you’re speaking through mud, “You love the idea of me.”

It’s only after you pass out that Riddle registers what you said. He’s under the impression that you’ll wake up and patch yourself up. Like you usually do.

You don’t wake up. He finds you in the same place after dinner, when he brings in your plate. You’re not in his main room, so he assumes you’re pouting, which you hardly ever do, ~not since he “trained” that nasty habit out of you.~

Riddle only registers what he’s done when he sees the mess that the bathroom is in. He only realizes how big of a mistake that he’s made when he sees the red puddle that has been spreading from your temple, your skull cracked open and brain exposed, not moving like it should be.

Riddle doesn’t bother calling to see if you’re still alive. He doesn’t kneel and shake your shoulder, he doesn’t demand that you get up. He simply casts a glance at his canestaff and notices the gore dripping off of the top, screams at the top of his lungs, and vomits.

He’s got such wonderful friends. He really does. As soon as Trey hears the shriek, he comes running, assuring the other guys that he can handle whatever happened.

He can’t. Riddle is inconsolable, and you are dead. No matter how mature anyone is, no one is prepared to handle the murder of a close friend at the hands of their supposed lover.

[twikni]

haha :)

[sickdokidoki]

You can't get out... even if you wanted. Part 2

Unisex reader x Harry Potter (both are adults and this is post Hogwarts)

TW: | Kidnapping | Physical Abuse | Rape | Mind Break |

909 words

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

It was a honey moon atmosphere in those first few months. He was loving, caring, sweet, a total darling. Ginny didn't know what she was missing, you thought, as he brought you the fourth bouquet of that week, with a loving card written by him. It was like a dream, everyone at work was jealous... you had bagged The Boy Who Lived, the Chief Auror! You didn't care what the others said, though, he was just Harry to you, the sweetest man ever, the one who loved you and the one you loved.

Yet, slowly, as the days went by you started to see little things. At first you brushed them off as being trauma related. He had lost his family and had gone through so much since he was a baby after all... It wasn't weird that someone who had been in a war and died and came back had little quirks and weird tiny details to his personality. Completely normal.

 But then one day you realised that it wasn't normal when you found a magical tracking device in your bag. It was disguised as a keychain, but you didn't remember that keychain being that way... so you took it and ran a diagnostic spell with your wand.

"What is this?! You don't trust me?!" you had yelled, throwing the keychain down on the table one day when he arrived at your house for "alone together" time. He blinked, looked surprised, took the keychain and then looked at you.

You thought there was anger in his bright green eyes, but then he talked to you in worried tones and you realised it had been anxiety and fear... right?

"Oh, my darling, my pet, I'm so sorry... I should've told you. I'm just so scared about something happening to you!" he had said, looking morose and down at his shoes. "I should've talked to you. Being the beloved of the Chief of Aurors isn't a safe thing. That's why... G-she left... that's why I've been single for so long..."

Wait, you had heard differently...! Was all that a lie so the media and the public would leave them alone...? Was it a ruse for their own safety, did Ginny actually leave to protect herself and Harry...? That would explain his sadness, why he can't say her name, and it made so much more sense now!

So you let it slide, the same as you let his outburst after an old classmate had come into the café to say hi slide, the same when he had stormed into your house demanding to know where you had been and why hadn't you answered your daily owl, the same when he had snatched you out of the street and told you in no uncertain terms that he wasn't comfortable with you going to work anymore, that it could be dangerous...

At first you had been very compliant, it was Harry after all. If anyone knew about safety it was him. But as his grip slowly started to tighten more and more around you you started to rebel. 

You had always been independent, making your own way even in school, making your own decisions, ready to handle the consequences of your own actions, learning from your own mistakes... but now...?

Now, curled up in the corner of the dark dungeon, you regretted not seeing the signs. They were so apparent, your friends had told you it wasn't okay... that he was acting too weird at times... but love had blinded you, and now there was no way out...

"Ready to obey me?" Harry's voice carried through the darkness and you snapped up your head so fast your neck popped. "Ready to listen to only me?"

How long had it been since you saw him, or anyone for that matter? Was someone asking for you outside? Looking for you? Or had he made it seem like you left... like... when... like when she left...? Oh Gods...

You screamed, and screamed, and screamed, reality setting in. She had never left, they had never split... HE had gotten to her, she had been down here, that explained the flowery smell that had wafted up towards you as you peered down the chest at his request and then when you were pushed down, landing softly due to his magic. It explained all the paper and broken quills that littered the dungeon's floor. She had been here, and now... where was she? ...Would you end up wherever she was...?

At your screams he pulled you up with his wand and yelled at you to shut up, to stop it, then shook and slapped you hard enough till you went quiet, terrified, his hands big and strong, bruising you. You were a shaking mess, crying quietly, curled up in a terrified ball on the bed.

"Oh, pet... See what you made me do...?" he cooed softly, sitting next to you, caressing your hair softly. "I just love you so much... All you need to do is listen to me! That's all you need to do! Obey me and I'll always be at your feet, my beloved... Why can't you see that...? Why can't you see how much I love you...?"

His hand slowly caressed your bruises, touching them with hot fingers. You winced and pulled away, but you received another slap to the face and you went slightly limp, letting him touch you. His hands travelled all over your body, the same way they had done that day at the forest, during one of your strolls...

[serickswrites]

🥇 for any!

I did already answer this one, so I will pick another question to answer! Thank you for stopping by to ask. (I'm an extremely elderly computer and cannot put emoji's, so sorry). What was the very first scene or image that popped into your head before you ever wrote a word for my OC? For giant WIP, the first image that popped into my head was Mal in chains in a basement with baddie advancing towards her. (A very whumpy beginning vision).

Please enjoy a little something since I already answered your question!

Warnings: restraints, physical assault, violence, left for dead, blood

The smell of grass was overwhelming. Whumpee could barely relax into the soft grass that cradled them. Their shoulders burned from being pulled so tight by the rope around their wrists. One nostril was clogged with blood. And yet, all they could smell was grass.

Whumper had beaten them mercilessly. Had beaten them within an inch of their life. And Whumpee hadn't been able to escape. Hadn't even been able to fight back because of the rope. They had only been able to sit there and hope the pain would be over. Hope that Whumper would stop. And hope that they wouldn't die.

And they didn't die. Whumpee wasn't exactly sure what happened--everything had become so fuzzy. They just knew that somehow they had ended up facedown in grass. The warmth of sunlight on their back. Fresh air blowing across their exposed neck. And the overwhelming scent of grass.

Whumper hadn't killed them. But Whumper had abandoned them, left them to die in a field of grass. There are worse places to die. Whumpee only hoped that they would be found before they died. That Caretaker would find them and save them.

But as Whumpee's tenuous grip on consciousness began to fade, they realized it didn't matter if Caretaker found them. They were somewhere peaceful. Somewhere warm. And it was nice to be cradled by the grass. Nice to smell the fresh grass one last time.

[kingofbrainrot]

Leonardo Would Behave

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

Leonardo would behave. 

He had promised the queen as such, and, despite the knowledge that he was one of Her Majesty's favorites, he knew he could not risk angering her. Her preferential treatment of him would only go so far, he imagined; he had already been given a few too many warnings. Plus, he was here for his children. Leonardo couldn't bear to disappoint them, not like that. 

But then it happened again. Some noble's coffee was not sweet enough, their croissant did not have enough filling, and the waitress was not apologetic enough for their liking (though she shook and trembled and seemed close to tears). They yelled at her, screamed to where the windows threatened to shatter. Horrible, horrible things. Incompetent, fat, ugly, bitch. Leonardo could barely contain the white-hot rage that burned in his belly. 

Then they hit her. Their palm met her tear-moistened cheek, and the terrible sound echoed about the parlor. As she stumbled backward, clutching her face, Leonardo saw her eyes; blue. 

The pot boiled over, and the Old Ares rose. Once filled with quiet idol chatter, the café grew silent at the creak of his chair. The abusive noble turned to see what was the matter and was met with the most scathing, furious, murderous stare. 

Leonardo knew he was downright terrifying, and he knew precisely how to use that to his advantage.

There was a stand-off. The noble was frozen, refusing to lower their hand, yet still refusing to move. The waitress sniffled. 

Leonardo took one step forward. Instantly, the noble retreated to their seat and lowered the brim of their hat over their eyes. The waitress took advantage of the moment and scurried out of sight into the kitchen. 

Leonardo kept standing for a moment more, allowing the atmosphere to tense further and further, before silently returning to his chair. He sipped at his too-sweet coffee, well aware that the nobles were whispering and staring. When the waitress returned to refill his cup, she had an angry red palm print on her cheek. 

That evening, Leonardo returned to the café just before closing with a bouquet of flowers. The waitress cried and cried, so thankful for something so simple as someone who cared. When she hugged him, so small and so fragile, he wished he could burn the entirety of Zeus down for her. But he knew that he couldn’t.

Leonardo had to behave, even if it killed him.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

@sm-baby is the queen of making quality square men who I would gladly let punch some rich pompous asshole for my honor.

[r-truth]

tw for physical assault (that i witnessed) in the tags

[arsonistsfirefly]

I went out to drink with Jane, and boy I had a bad time for once.

Same guy kept flirting with me and I declined him

Motherfucker grabbed my arm when I tried to get away cause a bitch was uncomfortable.

I tased his nuts.

Went home early cause of the arm bruise 😔 and just a bit upset.

So I'm making some angel hair pasta.

[mochathesamoyed]

Happy Mother’s Day 2023

For those who need it, you are not alone:

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Love Letters Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: betrayal, manhandling, violence, physical assault (in the form of hand-to-hand combat) and physical violence, gunshots/gun references/being shot at, threats, dangerous situations, emotional distress, gaslighting, intimidation, kidnapping, restraints, blood, torture (to a degree), manipulation, consensual loss of consciousness NOT ALL WARNINGS APPLY TO EACH PART Note: Part 7 is in pink font because it gets kinda graphic (in a whumpy way, not a suggestive way)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

The Bargain (Spin Off Chapter)

Shining Armor (Spin Off Chapter) - THIS IS VERY GRAPHIC - PLEASE READ WARNINGS!

forced sedation, swearing, torture, physical assault, mentally afflicted torture, reference to amputation, slight lobotomy/mental paralysis, non-surgical lobotomy??, beheading, (graphic) death, implied death, non-POV character near death experience, blood, violence, whump scenario, mentions of blood, injury, medical scenario, consensual loss of consciousness/loss of consciousness

Part 8

Part 9

Post-Main Series Behind the Scenes/The Promised Info Dump

[bcyoureallthatmakessense]

In today's saga of my cousins asshole kid he got into a screaming match and physical altercation and I got hella triggered ✌🏻

Took a Xanax, put my headphones up as loud as they can be and im speed texting one of my besties so I'm feeling better but Holy shit

[scottishstoner]

Guy I’d been kinda seeing from my old work I went to his last night and he ended up losing his temper with me, so … he punched me

My head was gushing blood and he immediately was sorry and wiped the blood away with a wet cloth but I was terrified, my stepdad came and got me and I only got out because he came right to his front door. He didn’t want me to leave, he was crying, hugging me…I am still shocked this happened and I didn’t see any warning signs or didn’t want to see them, 2 months of my life I wasted on this guy. And he turns out to be like this. Messaging me saying he’s so sorry he wants to see me again, he shouldn’t have done it, he’s never done anything like that before to a woman blah blah…one time is too many. I’m fucked in the head about this whole thing because part of me wants to talk to him face to face again about it but another part of me is saying no forget it all. See? I’m fucked in the head with it. I’m shocked, I don’t feel like myself rn

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

I mentioned before, but in the human au while the physical abuse wasn’t as bad as it was in the animatronic version (because he’s a person and lets face it no human would survive what Moon regularly went through) and it also wasn’t from his parents as they were mostly absent. It was bullying, just instead of verbal teasing like his brother went through it got physical almost always. Mostly because Moon was quick to argue with anyone who made fun of his brother, even though he himself was already picked on. Little Moon is very loud and extroverted compared to when he got older, so to say he pissed people off is an understatement. It was like he had no filter whatsoever. 

For example, one of the other boys asked “Why do you look like that? You look diseased.” (he knew damn well he wasn’t, this was a constant joke he made just to draw attention to his vitiligo) and he replied “I can’t change the way I look. Speaking of, hey why are you so fat? Maybe you should check your diet, tubby.” which obviously started a fight. 

It only got really bad when he got into fights with people bigger then him, because those are the times he’d get really hurt. One such of these bullying incidents ended with permanent scarring. The boy he called fat was apart of a group of older boys and was pissed off about Moon embarrassing him infront of the rest of the class, as everyone laughed when Moon called him fat. So during break time they confronted him, but he wouldn’t back down and said that they shouldn’t of bothered him if they didn’t want to get embarrassed. They were all bigger then him though so when it got physical it didn’t end very well for him. One of them kept him still while the one he called fat told him he was going to wish he was “just diseased” once he was done with him.

Sun found Moon later crying his eyes out. He wouldn’t let Sun see his right eye, and when he finally managed to coax him into showing it to him he noticed that it was discolored and bleeding heavily. 

Well it turns out the little bastard brought a knife to school and ended up stabbing slicing his face open. He lost sight in his right eye and while he isn’t completely blind in that eye he might as well be. There is still a scar above and below his eye in a thin line. That eye is also slightly discolored.

It was after that point where he started to cover the right side of his face with his hair, covering both the majority of his darker colored skin on his face (as the right side of his face is the dark side, as is with the animatronic). Looking at pictures from before the accident are weird for him because before the age of ten he always had both eyes exposed, and after that age he never had that eye uncovered in future pictures.

[xxjomama300xx]

I keep forgetting that last year that literally me and this eshay heard this woman screaming for help and we legit ran to the source of the noise only to see some motherfuckin jealous ex smashing his ex girls head into the floor and we both fucking beaaat the shit out dumb fuck old man god - I loved it OF COURSE IM PROUD, I couldn't stop my own fucking father from beating my mother as a child so this felt like redemption for her in a way

Also by the end of the bashing the eshay lad stole his wallet and phone,

It was SKITS AND EETSWA 🤙

[camxle]

time: 2:45am

date: august 6th 2022

location: le cirque nightclub

Cam had made this walk before. A few steps was all it took to get from the back doors of Le Cirque to her designated spot in the parking lot. Exterior lights provided a soft glow of light to guide her to her car. Security cameras were also mounted outside the club to keep a watchful eye on what was going on outside. Living in such a safe city, Cam worried very little about a quick stroll through a darkened parking lot on her own. She had taken self defense classes in the past and kickboxed on a regular basis. If something were to happen, Cam felt confident in her ability to protect herself.

The club had already closed for the night by the time Cam made her way out the back doors. The parking lot was practically barren when she stepped outside. Besides her own vehicle, all that remained was Leo and the bar manager’s cars. Digging around in her purse for her keys, Cam started off on that familiar walk she had made dozens of times before. With her attention focused on shuffling around through the black hole that was her purse, Cam had forgotten to be mindful of her surroundings. She didn’t hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching her from behind.

“Cam!”

Hearing her name being called out so abruptly sent a jolt of shock to her nerves, kicking off her heartbeat at frantic pace. She spun around just in time to see a male figure swinging his arm towards her. There was no time to react as the dark, heavy object in his hand collided violently against the side of her face. White hot pain seared its way along her jawline and into her skull. The force behind the strike sent Cam tumbling to the side, falling roughly on her hands and knees. Droplets of blood fell from her bottom lip, landing quietly on the hard concrete beneath her. A hand suddenly snatched up a handful of the back collar of her shirt, hoisting the club owner off her knees and on to her feet. He shuffled them forward a few steps before aggressively shoving Cam against her car. She leaned against the vehicle for support, blinking through the dizziness swimming around in her head. He bent down to pick up the car keys that had tumbled out of her purse, keeping the gun in his hand aimed at her chest. The male threw the keys down at her feet, wiping away the thick beads of sweat forming across his brow.

“We’re going to get in your car and go for a little drive.”

He moved in closer, making his intentions clear by the unsettling look in his bloodshot eyes. He tilted his gun to aim under her chin, wetting his thin lips. It was at that moment realization struck her. She had seen this man around Le Cirque before. He had attended the poker games being secretly held in the backroom of her nightclub. There was something else triggering Cam’s sense of familiarity. A memory of this man’s face outside of Le Cirque. This wasn’t just some common criminal or drunken thug trying to get his kicks. This man came from a family of wealth and respect. Douglas Bentley, son to one of the most powerful judges in the state of Colorado.

“You try anything stupid and I’ll empty every round I have into your pretty fucking face.”

Cam couldn’t help but stare down at the weapon being aimed at her. She had been around guns before. Gregory had owned a few and taught Cam how to handle one in case of an emergency. She had been educated enough to know when the safety on the gun was turned on and when it was turned off. In the case of the man who had just attacked her, his was turned off. Cam mentally told herself to try and remain as calm as possible. She didn’t have a chance in hell if she was in a state of panic. “Okay, whatever you say. I can be cool.” Cam slowly bent down, wincing slightly as the cuts on her knees stretched painfully across her skin. Her fingers curled around the keys, pulling in one last steadying breath. Before giving it another thought, Cam lunged upwards, driving the heel of her hand against the bottom on his chin with all the force she could muster. The sickening click of his jaw reached her ears. He stumbled backwards, groaning loudly from the strike to his chin. Cam sent her leg swinging forward between his legs, crushing her shin against his groin. The gun tumbled away from his fingers and clattered to the ground as the wounded male hunched over, gasping out a sharp breath from the bruising impact. “I hope that fucking hurt!” Cam angrily spat at her attacker. “I know this will.” She didn’t give the male any time to react as she swung her leg around, delivering a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. The club owner watched as his eyes rolled under his lids and he sank to the ground in a limp heap. Cam carefully skirted the gun away from him with her foot, wiping away the blood that was spilling out the side of her mouth. The sudden sound of the back doors of Le Cirque opening startled Cam, causing her to raise her hands into a fighting stance. Leo appeared outside with bags of trash in his hands and a look of horror in his eyes. Cam expelled a small, shaky breath of relief, lowering her arms to rest by her sides. He dropped the trash bags and rushed over to Cam, gasping when he saw the male passed out in the parking lot. 

“Oh my God, are you okay? Did he do that to you?” Leo questioned with concern pooling in his eyes, reaching into his back pocket with shaky hands to retrieve his cell phone. “Do you need an ambulance?”

Cam looked away from Leo, turning her gaze to glare down at the male spayed out on the ground. She shook her head at the question. “I don’t–-but he might.”